The Rift
by JBHart
Summary: This A/U is set 18 years after Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant. A peace treaty between warring factions breaks apart, disrupting the lives of the former Voyager crew.
1. Disruptor

- Onari System -

Everything around her, it seemed, was burning. B'Elanna had awakened to a searing pain in her leg, and a loud ringing in her ears. Something terrible had happened and she couldn't get her mind to focus. Miral…she had to find her daughter. She was buried somewhere in the rubble. B'Elanna called to her, but her voice was barely a whisper. She could not get up to search for her.

"Ambassador Torres," said a voice beside her. "Can you hear me?"

Solek, the young Vulcan Commander in charge of her safety, gazed down at her, and ran a tricorder scan. He was injured, a laceration over his ear oozed bright green.

Suddenly B'Elanna's memory flooded back. She was at the Prime Minister's banquet on Onari Prime. Miral, she realized, was safe back home at Starfleet Academy.

"Commander Solek," she said. She tried to swallow, but her throat burned.

The Vulcan lifted her head and placed a rolled up cloth beneath. "Where's my husband?" she said, clutching Solek's sleeve.

"I have not yet located Commodore Paris."

B'Elanna felt a tremble in the floor as more debris fell from the now unstable building. Solek bent over her, shielding her from the showering fragments.

When the fallout subsided, he sat up again.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Shantak Terrorists, I believe," he said, "The attack bears their signature: two bombs detonated ten minutes apart. The Prime Minister is dead."

"No…"

Terrorists. B'Elanna hated the word. It was an ancient expression, revived in recent years when the Onari System fell into civil war.

"Medic!" Solek called above the shouts of survivors and rescue workers.

A helmeted Onari dressed in the typical olive and gold uniform of the palace guard, responded. The young man looked harried and overwhelmed; sweat and soot smeared his face. "I'll find you a medic, sir." He hurried away, climbing over fallen debris as he went.

"Is my leg broken?" B'Elanna said, "It hurts like hell."

Solek examined the leg, but his gentle touch sent spears of pain through it. B'Elanna bit her lip and hissed.

"Yes, but it appears to be a clean break," he said, "We need to get you to a medical facility. Unfortunately, the Onari's lack of planning for such a crisis has resulted in a chaotic response. There may not be enough medical personnel for so many casualties." He stood, "I shall return momentarily with a medkit."

"No, Solek. First, find my husband," she said, "I'll be alright."

"Ambassador, I'm charged with protecting you."

"I'll be alright," she insisted, putting a little more strength in her voice.

He sighed. Working with her for so many months had taught him that she was a very stubborn woman. "I must find a medkit. It may take a few minutes," he said. "If I locate him during that time, I will inform you."

"Thank you, Solek." B'Elanna watched the commander climb over the rubble that was once the ancient walls of the Onari Banquet Hall. Her head throbbed with a dull pain, and she laid it back down.

It was then that she saw a hand jutting from the debris beside her. It was delicate; the hand of a young woman, the rest of her body was buried beneath the debris. Reaching out, B'Elanna touched it and felt the coldness of death.

So much hope. So many dreams of Onari peace, and now. . . . those dreams were dead.

- Starfleet Academy, San Francisco -

Miral . . .u . . . r . . . beautiful. . . .

For the second time during her midterm physics exam, words from an anonymous hacker scrolled across the bottom of Miral Paris' computer screen.

For the second time, she deleted it.

A full hour had already passed since the beginning of the exam, and she'd only answered a third of the questions. The last thing she needed was for some amorous jerk to disrupt her concentration. Her grades in this class were weak at best. She couldn't afford to be tripped up now.

She rested her forehead on her hand and tried to reread the problem.

Then it happened again. This time the words flashed.

Plz Miral . . . gimme the answer to #34 . . .

He's got to be kidding.

Miral glanced up at her instructor, Captain T'Poq. The Vulcan sat at a computer in the front of the room; her back turned to the class. Miral took this chance to scan the rows of students. All were quiet with their heads bent in concentration over their exams. Then three rows back, she found the culprit. Tad Bishop. It had to be him. He was the only cadet in the entire class with a silly grin on his face.

He looked up at her and winked, the silly grin broadening into a triumphant smile.

Those dimples wouldn't get him anywhere. Miral responded by giving him her harshest look. She stuck out her tongue.  
Bishop's smile vanished and he quickly resumed his work.

Well, that was easy, she thought.

"Cadet Paris." Captain T'Poq's voice broke the silence. Several other cadets glanced up from their tests.

Miral straightened. The Vulcan was now standing by Miral's workstation, looming over the young cadet, her dark, emotionless eyes cast down in judgment.

"Do you wish to complete this exam?"

Beneath the Vulcan's focused gaze, Miral felt like an ant cringing under a magnifying glass. Her mouth went dry, but she managed to utter a small, "Yes, sir."

"Then do not disturb your classmates or you will forfeit your grade. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

Miral turned back to her exam. She could feel a hot blush rising to her cheeks, and wished desperately that her embarrassment didn't show.

"Time," T'Poq announced with a certainty that had everyone either sighing or moaning that it was over. "Close your exams. Class is dismissed until Tuesday at 0900. Your grades will be posted at that time."

Miral got up from her seat, and Bishop slipped past her not saying a word. She saw him file through the door with the rest of the students.

"I couldn't remember Sprak's Theory on black holes," said her friend Inge who came up beside her. "My mind just went blank."

"First of all, it's Spock, not Sprak," Miral said. "Didn't you study?" She picked up her bag and headed for the door. "Never mind. I guess all the studying in the world doesn't matter when your instructor hates you."

"Don't let T'Poq upset you, Miral," said Inge. "She's a Vulcan, she can't hate you. Besides, everybody gets zapped at least once in her class. You should be glad it happened. Have pity on me. My turn's still in the future."

"Thanks a lot Inge," said Miral. She scowled. "That idiot, Bishop. It was his fault! He hacked into my test and I don't know how he did it."  
Inge's mouth dropped. "He was cheating?"

"Maybe," Miral said. "He's not going to get away with it."

They stepped through the door and into the sunlit courtyard.

"Well there's the idiot now," Inge said, gesturing with a twitch of her head.

Bishop was standing by the water fountain talking to two girls from class. They smiled and giggled at everything he said. He could probably read Einstein's Theory of Relativity to them and they'd still giggle. She stalked straight up to him. The girls' smiles waned.

"Bishop," she said, "I'd like a word with you."

"Sure," he said as if he'd done nothing wrong. He followed her down the walkway.

They didn't get far when she abruptly turned and jabbed a finger at his chest. "What the hell did you think you were doing hacking into my test like that? I can't afford to fail this class. Of all the-if I don't pull my grades up, they'll kick me off the ski team. I can't let that happen. I've worked too hard for it."

"I was just teasing, Miral," said Bishop, "I didn't think it would bother you, and I didn't know T'Poq would embarrass you like that."

His expression wasn't sincere enough. Miral put on her most deadly serious look. "It won't happen again, Bishop, because if it does, I'm going to report you."

"I'm sorry," he said and shrugged one shoulder. "I was hoping you'd go with me to the Parrises Squares tournament this weekend. I guess I didn't know how to get your attention."

"It was a dumb thing to do," she said weakening.

"I know," he said, but his smile came back, and he leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "You sure are cute when you blush."

He was so close; she suddenly noticed how kissable his lips were. Miral caught herself. Heat rose to her cheeks again and she glanced away. How could she think that about Bishop? He was just a player, never serious about anything. She saw the two girls still standing by the water fountain gazing expectantly in his direction. "Your harem's waiting."

He glanced back at them, and their smiles flashed instantly. "Them? They don't mean anything to me."

"Ahem."

Miral turned around and saw that Inge stood behind her with her arms folded across her chest. She was a watchdog, that Inge, and she sent Bishop a cold glare.

"Hi Inge."

"Bishop."

"Think about the tournament, Miral," he said. "I'll call you later."

Miral watched him walk away. She'd never noticed his lean, muscular build before. She was so wrapped up in her studies; she had never really noticed the way he walked. He was so confident and –gods—was she really falling for him?

"Well, what was that all about?" said Inge. "You come out here to tell him off and the next thing I know, you're practically drooling all over him."

Miral brought her gaze back to Inge. "I was not drooling."

"Were too. Besides, he's not your type."

"Who is my type then, know-it-all?"

Inge bit her bottom lip, and mused for a moment. "I don't know," she said finally, " I just think you're too smart for a guy like that. He's the Stepford Wife type. Take the two he's with right now. Blondie and Bouncy."

Miral saw how the two girls fawned over him. Maybe Inge was right. After all, being part Klingon, Miral didn't feel as if she fit in anywhere, let alone the circles that Bishop flew around in.

"Cadet Paris."

Captain T'Poq approached them.

Miral froze. She would be accused of cheating because of Bishop's prank. Her mind raced for appropriate answers to the accusations she was sure would come.  
"You are to report to the Admiral's office immediately."

"Yes, sir."

T'Poq left. No explanation. No reassurances, nothing.

When she was out of earshot, Inge spoke. "That's a Vulcan for you. Just the facts ma'am. Never a word of explanation."

Miral hadn't been called to Admiral Janeway's office like this before, and she tried to imagine what kind of trouble she must be in. She turned to her friend, "You don't suppose they found out who rolled T'Poq's house do you?"

Inge dismissed the notion by making a raspberry sound. "That's hardly a reason to be called to the Admiral. She's close to your family, right? Maybe your folks are coming back early, and she wants to be the one to tell you."

"Could be," Miral said. Suddenly, she felt better. She wished she had better grades to show her parents when they got back. "Guess I'd better go find out then. I'll see you later, Inge."

The two friends parted, and Miral strolled down the sunny sidewalk in a dream. The best-looking cadet in class had just asked her out, and her parents were coming home. The day could only get better; she picked up her pace and found that she actually looked forward to the meeting with Admiral Janeway.


	2. Where There Is Life

Onari

Waiting was hell, but it was all B'Elanna could do. Wait for painkillers, wait for real medical attention…wait for news of her husband. Commodore Paris wasn't among the casualties brought in to the overcrowded hospital. No one had seen him since the explosions that devastated the Palace, killing and wounding hundreds. The official casualty count mounted steadily as rescuers searched for victims in the rubble. The likelihood of them finding him alive diminished with every hour.

B'Elanna tried to keep her mind busy, stranded as she was in the hospital bed. She sent Commander Solek on errands back and forth and attempted to contact the Federation Embassy, or the USS Venture, her husband's command for the past nine years, with no success. Anything was better than thinking about Tom lying crushed beneath tons of rubble in the banquet hall.

Frustrating her most was the fact that she couldn't just get up to look for him; she was helpless. Her leg was trussed up in the most primitive splint she'd ever seen, and it hurt like hell. She didn't blame the doctors, they had only the most archaic medical supplies at their disposal, syringes, knives, ether… and they still worked valiantly to save lives. Overrun with casualties, they were stressed to their limits. With all those billions in economic aid the Federation poured into this system, B'Elanna couldn't help but wonder why the Onari government couldn't spare any of it for decent medical facilities.

A clicking sound snapped B'Elanna out of her musings. The door opened and a young nurse peeked her head in through the entryway. The girl's dark hair was disheveled and the small nurse's cap perched precariously on top was inside out. "May I get you anything, Ambassador?"

This was the same nurse who had clumsily bumped B'Elanna's leg when they brought her in on a stretcher, causing B'Elanna to shriek in pain. The poor kid. Judging by her attire, she was probably a nurse's aide and had never experienced a crisis of this magnitude.

A doctor would be nice, she thought, but this girl was clearly too frazzled to be of any real help. "No, thank you. I'm fine," B'Elanna said, hoping her expression didn't belie her true feelings.

Relief eased tense lines in the girl's face. She bobbed once and closed the door.

Letting go a heavy sigh, B'Elanna pushed errant strands of her own hair out of her face and tried once more to contact the Federation Embassy. She flipped open the communicator and uttered a low growl. The primitive devices in the hospital's supply were not efficient enough to break into airwaves now laden with thousands of active communicators vying for airtime. She turned the small frequency dial at the bottom. No signal, just frustrating static. Instead of throwing the ineffective child's toy across the room, as she was wont to do in such circumstances, she used this moment to measure her self-control, laying it ever so gently on the table beside her bed.

That wasn't so hard, she thought, I am a rock.

The door opened again and Solek entered. Aside from the small bandage above his ear, he appeared to have been unscathed in the blast. "I have been in contact with Venture," he said.

"You actually contacted the ship?" She repeated. She knew the Vulcan didn't approve of redundancy but her shock overwhelmed her. "Are they here?"

"They are en route," he replied, "Estimated to arrive in two days."

"Two days!" She lay back on the pillow; she couldn't bear to be in this so-called hospital another minute, let alone two more days.

"The Onari's have sealed off the system," said Solek. "It will take at least that long to get any ships through, perhaps longer. No one is entering or leaving the system until the uprising is abated."

"I should have expected that," B'Elanna said. The meager dose of medication she received at the palace had now completely worn off and the pain in her leg was misery. Her temper flared. "Has anyone found Commodore Paris yet?"

"I spoke with several members of Palace Security." said Solek, "From what few witnesses they could find, they have discerned that he was last seen responding to an urgent call. He'd left the building minutes before the explosions. They have reason to believe he is in the hands of the Shantak Rebels."

"What?" B'Elanna said, sitting up so fast that a fresh wave of pain hit her. "Damn," she hissed and took a calming breath. "Why," she said when the pain momentarily abated. "He didn't have anything to do with the negotiations or the treaty. He was there for me."

"He wore a Starfleet uniform, did he not?" Solek replied. "That in itself would be reason enough."

B'Elanna threw up her hands. "If only I could walk out of here," she said, "Solek, search around. This place should have Federation medical equipment stashed away somewhere. We've been sending supplies for years. Maybe there's an osteotractor or a protoplaser lying around. Something to help speed up my recovery."

He nodded. "I concur with your hypothesis. There may indeed be Federation medical supplies 'lying around'. I will see what I can find." He turned to leave the room.  
"Solek," B'Elanna said, suddenly feeling like an overbearing monarch ordering her subject about. "Thank you for helping me."

"I believe the proper response is 'your welcome'," he said, pausing at the door, "but logic would have led me to the same course of action." He closed the door behind him.  
Leave it to a Vulcan to deny a proper thank you. She sat back, and for the first time since the attack, she held a glimmer of hope.

Starfleet Academy

There was a light spring in Miral's step as she made her way across campus to Admiral Janeway's office. Things were starting to go right for a change. The weight of the physics exam was off her shoulders and despite T'Paq's threat, Miral believed she'd done better overall than she'd expected. Bishop had thrown her a loop but she handled it. Wow. Just the thought of Bishop made her pulse quicken. She'd never even considered him approachable until now. The best news of all was that her parents were coming home after months of being away. She would convince Dad to get her those new skis she wanted so desperately. Her birthday was only three days away after all; she knew she could soften him up.

Yep, she thought, things are definitely looking up.

She rounded the corner of the Administration building and a commotion brought her out of her reverie. Beyond the gates a throng of reporters had set up camp. Vans full of equipment, cameras and even a few tents were cluttered around the entrance. They looked like they were hunkering down to stay a while. This was the first time she'd ever seen the gates closed to outsiders. She paused when she saw the guard with a phaser rifle in his arms, strange to see a weapon so prominent and close to civilians.

Several of the reporter's hov-cams jetted about unmanned taking random video of anything that moved. Miral remembered those awful things from when she was little. The press followed her everywhere back then just because she was born on Voyager at the precise moment it so miraculously returned from the Delta Quadrant. She froze; one of them had turned its lens on her.

"Come inside quick," said a woman's voice. An older woman at the admin doors gestured with quick hands for Miral to move.

When Miral stepped through and the doors slid closed behind her, she felt as if she'd just narrowly escaped a hunter's trap.

"Those hounds are coming after everyone who tries to enter the building. Don't worry dear, they won't bother you as long as you're in here."

There was sympathy in the woman's eyes. She was Betazoid, Miral quickly realized, and seemed to understand her fear. "Thank you," Miral said, "I guess I just get nervous when I see them."

"I get nervous too," the woman said as they walked away from the windows, "but as awful as they seem, they do serve a purpose in times like these."

The woman gave her a gentle wave and departed, leaving Miral alone in the lobby. Miral turned and looked back out through the doors, hov-cams floated outside the glass vying for the best angle. The emergency stairs were two steps away and she made a break for it. Punching open the door, she hopped the stairs two at a time up to the Admiral's floor, pausing at the top to catch her breath. At least she was away from their prying eyes. Whatever happened to bring the press here, she hoped it would blow over soon.

She reached the admiral's door and was about to ring the chime, but a thought occurred to her. Maybe the admiral did want to speak to her about the rolling of T'Paq's house or maybe she found out about the time she and Inge used a transporter to send a rival school mascot to…oh no not that. That was a long time ago. Miral decided the best way to get out of it was to present her self as a model cadet. She brushed out errant wrinkles in her uniform and squared her shoulders. A confident approach could get her out of any mess. She stepped up to the door and rang the chime.

"Enter."

The doors slid open and Miral stepped in, keeping her eyes ahead. Janeway rose to her feet behind her desk.

"Cadet Paris reporting—" she noticed another figure in the room and couldn't keep from glancing over.

"Uncle Chakotay!" She ran to him throwing her arms around him. "Oh, I'm so happy to see you! When did you get back?"

"I came in just last night," he said. He pulled away to look at her. "I've been gone too long, Miral. You're all grown up."

Her heart warmed at the appraisal. He'd been like a second father to her when she was a little girl. How she'd missed him when Annika took a position at the science colony on Aristarchus. His hair was a little more flecked with gray, but other than that, he still looked the same as he did four years ago, but she detected a note of sadness in his eyes.

A sudden fear struck her. "Is your family well? How are Annika and Erin?"

"They're fine," he said and his smile faded.

"Joaquin?" she said, fearing some disaster had perhaps befallen his son.

"He's here, he's looking forward to seeing you again."

"Cadet Paris."

Omigods…Miral stiffened, she'd forgotten all about protocol and had ignored the Admiral entirely. She turned and stood at attention, sure that Janeway would tear her down for the blunder. Miral berated herself. How could she be such an idiot?

To her surprise, the admiral wasn't angry or insulted. She actually stepped out from behind her desk and gestured to a plush sofa. "Please sit down."

A bit confused by the gentle treatment, Miral sat down and sank slowly into the soft vinyl cushions. Janeway took a seat adjacent to her.

The admiral's face was too serious. Miral was in trouble. "I'm sorry ma'am," She blurted out, sure that one of her pranks had been found out. "It was completely my idea. No one helped me." Embarrassment rushed to her cheeks in a hot wave. "I'll replace the coils with my own credits." She added hastily hoping that would be enough to make amends.

Chakotay, who had remained on the other side of the room, made a small noise in his throat. Miral wasn't sure how to interpret it, but her spirits brightened thinking she might have amused him.

The Admiral didn't appear to notice Chakotay's reaction. "Miral, you're not in trouble," she said.

Miral felt the tenseness in her shoulders relax, but she was perplexed. There was a long pause in which she realized the admiral was combating strong emotions. She cocked her head and glanced up at Chakotay. He now sat on the edge of the desk, hand rubbing his forehead. It seemed that he too knew something she didn't. Remembering the reporters camped outside, a cold fear took hold of her. Something was terribly wrong. She looked back to the Admiral. "What's happened?"

Janeway drew in a long breath and said it, slowly and concisely. "There's been an uprising on Onari Prime. Two explosions destroyed the Palace. We believe your parents were inside when it happened."

Miral did not move. It was as if someone had yanked the floor out from underneath her and this was the nanosecond before the plunge. "But that's not true." she said, hardly able to get the words out. She glanced up at Chakotay, but he was far away, she could no longer see his features draped in shadow. "I just talked to them yesterday. They said they were coming home soon."

Janeway took her hand, clasping it firmly, as if the contact would ease the awful news. "We haven't been able to get much information yet, but we do know there were survivors—"  
"No!" Miral jerked her hand away. "It didn't happen. I know, because they said they were coming home." She moved to get up, but the Admiral was in her way.

"Miral."

"Ma'am, please," she said, "I have to go."

Janeway sat up and gave her room to pass. Miral got up and took two unsteady steps to the doors. Her heart pounded and she couldn't seem to catch her breath. But where would she go? Outside, the reporters would confront her. "What am I going to do?" she said, then she looked at Chakotay. "Uncle, please tell me what to do."

Chakotay moved forward and Miral sank into his arms. "Have faith," he said, "as long as there were survivors, there's still hope. You must believe that."

She looked up at him and his calm reserve bolstered her, she wiped away a tear. "I'll try," she finally said. She closed her eyes and listened to the steady beat of his heart.


	3. A Simple Wish

San Francisco

Home now, after what seemed to be the longest day of her life, Kathryn Janeway washed her dishes. The ritual usually calmed her mind when she was troubled. Lifting a fragile cup from the warm soapy water, she studied the fine hand-painted flowers, pink and delicate. She tried to imagine the artist's hand as he masterfully brushed them on so many generations ago. This exercise used to come easy to her, but now she could not see it. "It's just a cup," she stated aloud. "It's just a damned cup." Would it make her feel better this time if she shattered it against the floor?

She sighed and rinsed it. As she set it gently on a towel, she thought about the young girl whose life was so instantly and irrevocably changed today, and Kathryn hated herself for being the cause of it.

B'Elanna had told Kathryn she wanted to retire from public life, to be home, to help Miral through the academy. But Kathryn convinced her to go back to Onari one last time to help seal the fragile peace treaty with the Shantak.

She took another cup and ran the sudsy cloth over it. Command decisions come at a price, she told herself, they always have. This time the price was too high, and she may have cost B'Elanna her husband, and Miral a father because Kathryn thought she knew what was best. "Damn it." she muttered.

The door chime rang and she quickly rinsed the cup and set it beside the other. She dried her hands on a dishtowel, contemplating the evening ahead. She decided it would be best not to reveal any doubts while Chakotay was here. He wasn't necessarily on her side anymore.

When she opened the front door, he was there, damp from the rain showers that had built up toward evening. "Chakotay." She smiled despite her misgivings. "Please come in."'

"Thank you, Kathryn." His voice was formal and bore little evidence of their once strong friendship. It was a defense mechanism to be sure. Neither of them wanted to be hurt again.

"Let me take your coat."

"I can't believe the rain," he said. He slipped the damp coat off and handed it to her. "I'd nearly forgotten what it's like.

"Yes, I don't imagine you get much rain on Aristarchus." Kathryn hung the coat in the hall closet. "I understand the climate can be quite arid."

"It can," he nodded, but didn't offer more. "Joaquin's coming by in a little bit. He wants to see Miral. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. It'll be good to see him again." She quietly closed the door. "Won't you sit down?" she said. "You look like you need to."

"It was a long trip," he said.

The living room was open to the foyer and to the kitchen beyond it, but the sitting area was sunken giving it a cozy feel. A small end table lamp and fire in the hearth offered soothing low light.

Chakotay stepped down into the rectangular space and sank into one of the faux burgundy leather sofas. Propping his elbow on the arm of the couch, he rubbed his eyes. He did look tired.

"How's Miral?" he asked without looking up.

"She's asleep." Kathryn stood by the bar to get herself a drink. She had a feeling she would need it before long. "She was very upset of course. She wanted to go home, but I thought it best that she stay here at least for tonight."

"That's generous of you."

"Generous," she said with a huff. "It was all I could do. We managed to get hold of her aunt but she won't be in until Thursday. I couldn't very well leave Miral alone at a time like this."

"I didn't mean—" but he stopped and shook his head.

"That's alright, Chakotay," she said with a small wave of her hand. "I know you meant well." She lifted her glass and took a generous sip. "Brandy?" she said, offering him a snifter, but then she paused. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot. Aristarchus is a dry planet in more ways than one. I have tea and juice…"

"No, no," he said with a slight smile. "I'll have the brandy."

Kathryn relaxed a little and poured his drink. She stepped down into the living room and sat on the couch beside him. She handed him the glass. It seemed they were picking up where they left off years ago, when he suddenly broke it off to live with Sev—no, the former Borg was now Annika. Kathryn would do well to remember that.

He lifted the glass. "Here's to old habits," he said, apparently sensing her train of thought. After he sipped the brandy, he got to the point. "Have you heard any other news from Onari?"

"Not since late this afternoon, when we got word, thank God, that B'Elanna survived." She swished the dark liquid in a circular motion. "She was lucky to have only gotten a broken leg from that terrible ordeal."

"No word of Tom?"

"None," she said. "It doesn't bode well, Chakotay. If he's not trapped in the rubble it's possible the Shantak have him. It's only a rumor at this point, nothing conclusive…I intend to find out more first thing tomorrow."

"God…the Shantak." Chakotay spoke in a low whisper, but Kathryn detected the strain in his voice. "They don't take prisoners, Kathryn."

"I know."

She knew all too well. If Tom was indeed their prisoner, he would be lucky to survive the next few days. Shantak brutality was legendary, worsening daily along with their desire to remove the Onari people from their planet. Federation intervention to halt decades of violence seemed to be the right course of action in the beginning, but now Kathryn wasn't sure.

"Does Miral know?" Chakotay asked.

"God no," Kathryn said, taken aback.

"You have to tell her," he said. "It would be terrible if she had to find out on her own."

Kathryn drew a steady breath, determined to remain calm. "The girl is distraught," she said evenly. "You saw her in my office. I'm not going to tell her half-truths that would only serve to upset her. I fully intend to speak to her in the morning. At least by then, I'll have more information to give her."

Chakotay sighed and gave a slight nod. He ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry Kathryn. I don't know what's gotten into me. Of course you're doing the right thing. You've taken good care of her."

"I wish I could do more," she said. "Like send a fleet of ships to go get her parents out of that mess. I wonder what it would take to do that." She kicked back the rest of the brandy and set the empty glass down on the coffee table.

"Well," said Chakotay with a smile. He sat up and rested his elbows on his knees. "I might be able to give you justification for at least one ship."

"How so?"

"It's the reason I came back to San Francisco—"

The door chime rang.

"Hold that thought," she said as she bounded up the steps. "I want to hear every word."

She opened the door and there stood Joaquin. It had been so long since she'd seen him she did a double take. He and his father were so alike in stature that for a fleeting moment it seemed Chakotay was at her doorstep again.

"Evening Admiral," Joaquin said, wearing that quick smile that had always charmed her.

"Come in Joaquin," Kathryn said stepping aside to let him in. "It's a pleasure to see you."

"Thank you, ma'am." He scraped his boots on the mat and stepped inside.

He looked a bit like a cowboy with the jeans and ochre-hued suede jacket. This was in stark contrast to the sharp image she'd last seen of him when he'd attended the academy those two years.

She led him to the sitting area and thought it a good idea to start the conversation light. "Your father has told me you've made some important geological discoveries on Aristarchus."

"Yes, a few."

Kathryn waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't, so she pressed on. "There are quite a number of geologists at the science colony, aren't there?"

"Yes. Fantastic place for geologists," he replied. "Lots of rocks." He rubbed his hands together. He had taken a seat on the couch across from the two of them and looked expectantly from one to the other. Leaning forward with his arms resting on his knees he looked as if he was about ready to stand up again.

"You want to see Miral," stated Chakotay.

"Yes sir, I do," the young man said, not embarrassed in the slightest.

"I must apologize for my son, Kathryn," said Chakotay. "He will be incapable of carrying on a simple conversation until he's seen her." He shrugged.

Joaquin turned an innocent gaze to the Admiral. If it was a tactic to get her permission before going up, it worked.

"Upstairs, first door on the right," Kathryn said with a wave of her hand. "But she's probably asleep."

He got up and went toward the stairs.

"If she is asleep," Chakotay said over his shoulder. "Don't wake her. She needs the rest."

"No problem, sir," he said and went lightly up the stairs.

The Admiral assumed her young houseguest was sleeping, and Miral didn't want her believe otherwise. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she watched the news with the sound turned down. How could she sleep? She'd seen the same awful footage of the bombings on Onari time and again. There was devastation everywhere.

She didn't know why she kept it on, maybe because it was the only news she could get, but the more she watched, the more anxious she became and Miral had no one to talk to about her mounting fears. Earlier, she tried to call Inge. Miral had expected her closest friend to be available to her and was hurt to find she wasn't home. Even Janeway didn't seem to have time to help her sort things through. When she told Miral to get some rest, that they would talk more in the morning, the girl felt as if she'd been brushed aside.

Surely Janeway felt sympathy for her ordeal, but it soon became clear that the Admiral had other plans for the evening. Miral knew Chakotay was downstairs; she could hear the their voices, but her eyes were so puffy and irritated from crying that she didn't dare venture down to see him now.

If only she could close her eyes for a little while. Kicking off her shoes, she peeled back the downy covers on the bed and crawled in, but wrapping the covers around her like a cocoon gave her little sense of security. What she really wanted was to be home in familiar surroundings, but without her parents it wouldn't really feel like home.

Everything was so wrong; she couldn't believe she'd ever feel good again. Hugging the soft comforter closer to herself, she longed to hear her mom's voice telling her that she and Dad were all right, but she didn't know when she'd be able to talk to her. She burrowed deeper into the covers and a self-pitying whimper escaped her throat. She was building up to another good cry when a soft rapping on the door stopped her short.

Startled, she jerked the covers up completely over her head and lay still, praying that whoever it was would go away.

The door creaked open.

"Miral?"

It was a man's voice, one she didn't recognize. Her head popped up off the pillow in alarm, the covers still draped over her head. "Who is it?" she said, trying to sound assertive which was very hard to do.

"Hey, Ladybug, it's me."

Only one person in the galaxy could call her Ladybug and live. Miral flung the comforter off her head. She could see his shadow at the door. "Joaquin?" She brushed her hair back and sat up. "Is that you?"

"Who do y'think?" he said. "Can I come in?"

"Just a minute," she said. She found her handkerchief and dipped it in a glass of water on the nightstand. Pressing it to her eyelids for a moment, she let the cool feeling soak in. She knew it wouldn't miraculously relieve the puffiness, but it was all she could do to make herself feel more presentable. She straightened the covers. "You can come in."

He eased the door open a little more and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe to peer in. "You sure?"

"Yeah."

Leaving the door open, he came into the room. "They said you'd be asleep."

"Not hardly," she said. "I'm glad you're here." When she was little, whether her trouble was a scraped knee or the death of a pet, she could always run to Joaquin for help. That instinct was still there even after all these years. She reached up to him. He took her hand and sat on the edge of the bed.

The mere idea that she wasn't alone anymore brought on fresh tears. "I'm sorry," she said, wiping her eyes. "I can't seem to stop."

"Don't be sorry, Miral," he said. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "You're allowed to cry."

She tucked her hair behind her ears. "I must look awful."

He reached over and lightly lifted her chin. "Now that's impossible."

When she looked at him she saw genuine concern in his eyes. Her feelings mattered to him, and she was so relieved to be with someone who really cared. She managed to smile, just a little.

"That's better," he said.

He'd changed a bit since she'd last seen him. Living on Aristarchus had toughened him, his body was lean, like an athlete's and his skin was tanned a toffee brown. His hair that used to be kept in a military cut, was longer now and tousled. She reached up and flipped a strand out of his eyes. "You need a haircut," she teased.

He grinned and rolled his eyes. "Chakotay tells me that all the time, but I don't know. I think it makes me look dangerous," he said wiggling an eyebrow.

"About as dangerous as a beagle puppy," she said.

"Thanks a lot. I guess I'll have to grow that mustache then." Joaquin looked over at the monitor on which a news anchor mutely chattered on. He frowned. "How long have you been watching this?"

Miral shrugged. She couldn't answer. It had been on for hours.

"Would you look at that," he said, shaking his head, "They've already got a damned logo."

A graphic in the top corner of the screen read 'Onari Crisis – Day One' in flaming orange letters. "I think we've seen enough for today," he said and leaned over to turn it off.

"Don't," she said. "Please. I have to see."

"They only show the worst, Miral." He switched it off. "You need good news."

"There isn't any," she said, a lump tightened in her throat causing her words to falter.

"Come on." He stood up and offered his hand. "Let's get out of here."

She took his hand and climbed out of the covers. "Where are we going?"

"Out."

He went to the door and peeked around the corner as if he was on a covert operation. Curious, Miral took a peek too.

"Just as I suspected," he said, again shaking his head. "They're still at it."

"Who's still at what?" Miral asked, puzzled.

"Chakotay and the Admiral," he said bringing his thumb and fingers together several times in a talking gesture. "Is there a way to get outside without going past them?"  
"Through the Admiral's bedroom there's a sliding door," she said pointing down the hall. "It leads to a balcony with stairs."

"Through the Admiral's bedroom, eh?" he said thoughtfully. "I don't suppose she would mind. I am on a mission after all. Follow me, my little soldier," he said, as he stepped out into the hall.

She followed him into the darkened room. It was clear to her when she stepped in that the admiral was a very orderly woman. Everything was so pristine and still that Miral cringed at the loud racket Joaquin made when he fumbled with the blinds at the sliding door.

"How do you open this thing?" he said, and then the latch popped and he slid it open. He ushered her through with a wave of his hand. "After you," he said holding back the blinds.

When she stepped out onto the balcony, she discovered that the night had turned chilly after the rain. The smooth tiles were cool and damp against her bare feet, but it felt good.  
As he slid the door closed, she looked over the railing at the quiet bay whose shores bordered the elegant backyard. The cool salty breeze was a welcome change to the still and stuffy air of the small room she'd been languishing in. It was soothing to watch the moonlight dance on the waves and the tiny city lights glittering along the distant shore. A small vessel caught her eye as it glided silently though the waterway. She envied the people in that boat. They couldn't possibly have a care in the world.

Joaquin came up beside her. "Beautiful view," he said. "Isn't this better than being cooped up in that little room?"

She nodded and her breath hitched. "A little." She felt a slight shiver.

"Here." He slipped of his jacket and tucked it around her shoulders. "That better?"

"Yeah. Thanks." It smelled of rain and held his warmth. She wrapped herself in the comfort of it.

"Y'know, this view kinda reminds me of the subterranean lakes on Aristarchus," he said, and leaned his elbows on the railing. The breeze that now scattered the clouds tossed his hair, giving him an untamed look. "The cavern systems that lead you to them are incredible. We go spelunking down there when we get the time, my friends and I. We don't even need lamps a lot of times. Luminescent crystals line the caverns and they shine like crazy in fantastic blues and greens. There are pink one's in some places, though they're rare. They've got a funny nickname. Want to know what they're called?"

Miral nodded.

"Cupid's Glow."

"That's not very scientific for a science colony," she said.

"You cut me to the quick, Ladybug," he said placing a hand over his heart. "Scientists have feelings too, y'know. Besides, I named them."

"Sounds like something you'd do." she chuckled. "You were never too serious about anything. And why do you still call me Ladybug? I was seven when I wore that awful spotted dress, and I only wore it once!"

He shrugged. "I like the name. It reminds me of an innocent time I guess. Before I learned too much about life." He shook his head as if to dispel a bad thought. "But I'm forgetting my mission." He looked up at the night sky, "Now let's see, where would it be?"

"What?" she asked.

"I want to show you…" he began, "Ah. It's behind that tree," he said, gesturing to a young live oak near the shore. "Come on." he said and he started down the stairs.

She stayed at the top. "I don't want to play around, Joaquin. I've got a lot on my mind."

"I really think you want to see this," he said, looking up at her. "You won't be disappointed."

"Alright," she relented. "It better be good."

She followed him down the stairs and into the damp grass. There was a white awning-covered swing by the wooden dock that the Admiral, having no boat, rarely used. After swiping the water droplets off the swing, he motioned for her to sit.

It would be a romantic spot under different circumstances, the moon shone through the leaves of the oak tree as the boughs swayed in the breeze. The last of the rain clouds scurried by, leaving behind a clear window to the stars.

Joaquin sat beside her. He reached in the jacket pocket and withdrew a small pair of binoculars. He put them up to his eyes and searched the sky. "There it is," he said after a moment. "It's good the clouds are leaving." He handed the binoculars to Miral. "If you look just past that bottom branch about a half a meter or so you'll see something incredible."

She gave him a sidelong glance. "Alright." She looked through the binoculars and followed his direction, but she knew where this was headed.

"If you look closely, you'll see a red star."

"Okay," she said. "I see it."

"There's a smaller white star just below that," he said, "and that's the Onari star."

"I know." She pulled the binoculars away from her eyes and set them in her lap. "My parents and I talked about it. We came out and looked at it together before they left." Disappointed that he would lead her to this, she shook her head. "What's so incredible about that star? That's where my parents are. That's where that terrible fighting is. Why would you want to show me that? To make me feel worse than I already do?"

"No," he murmured. "I wanted to give you hope. If you focus on that hype that you were watching in that tiny room up there, it'll strip away every last shred of it that you have, I don't want that to happen. I thought it would help if I could show you a peaceful view of Onari."

Miral looked up at the distant light from Onari, light years away, winking like the rest of the stars, giving no outward clue as to the trouble that surrounded it. The fighting, the chaos, all the terrible images on the news was indiscernible at this great distance. It was a perfect little diamond in the night sky. She might wish on it if she believed in such things, but wishing wouldn't bring her parents home.

They were quiet for a long time. Joaquin had dug his boot heels into the grass, gently rocking them, and the swing creaked softly to a placid rhythm. The lapping of the waves on the shore, and the crickets chirping from their hidden shelters of grass and clover should have soothed her, but it was all too quiet, sending Miral deeper into her melancholy.

"When your mother died," she said, a little weary of breaking the silence, "how did you…I mean…"

He looked over at her for a moment then said, "How did I get through it?"

She nodded, but tried to take it back. "How could I ask you such a thing? It's too personal."

"Miral," he said. "It's okay. I don't mind talking about it." He crossed his ankle over his knee stopping the motion of the swing. "Where to start? It was so long ago. I was ten when she passed away. She'd known for a while that she was dying so she talked to me about it, to prepare me for it. But nothing really prepares you for something that final. It was a bad time. She had no close relatives and I didn't know what would happen to me when she was gone."

"But you had Uncle Chakotay."

"I have him now," he said, " but not back then. I didn't meet my father until I was nine." He shrugged. "I guess he'd been gone so long in the Delta Quadrant that when he came back she didn't want to saddle him with the responsibility of fatherhood. I guess she figured she'd done fine on her own until she realized she was too sick to raise me."

"But not to tell him he had a son…" Miral said.

"I can't judge her reasoning," Joaquin said, "from what Chakotay has said and from what I remember of her, they had a respect for each other, but never love. It happens I guess."

"He loves you." she said. "He's proud of your accomplishments."

He nodded. "I think so. We've built a good relationship over the years, but we have our moments." He smiled, as if remembering one. "Boy, do we have our moments."

Miral let him muse about whatever it was he remembered. She had disagreements with her own father and knew it was a normal part of a healthy relationship. Though at the time they happen, they sure can hurt. She wished she could take back every time she argued with her father, every time she disappointed him. She sighed.

"I have this picture at home," she said, after a moment. "It's my favorite. I'm about five and Dad is pushing me on the swing. We've both got these goofy grins on our faces, like we're having the time of our lives. How perfect that day must have been. But I was too young to appreciate it. If only I could go back and relive that very moment, be his little girl again, but I can't. I can't go back. Oh, Joaquin," she said, sorrow now choked her words. "I've lost my daddy." She broke down then, after finally admitting to what she was most afraid of, she could no longer hold back.

"No." Joaquin put his arm around her and held her. "No you haven't. Don't talk that way." He brushed a hand over her head smoothing her hair.

"It's true," she sobbed. "Commodore Preston was talking to Admiral Janeway, when they thought I couldn't hear. He said that if my father wasn't dead yet that it was only a matter of time. Why would he say that if it wasn't true?"

Joaquin uttered a low curse. "You mean why would Preston be such an insensitive prick?" Then he calmed himself. "Now, listen. Your dad is a fighter. He doesn't give up for anything. Remember how he went into that ion storm and rescued that freighter? Venture took heavy damage, and people said he was crazy for doing it. But right now, there are 167 people out there who owe him their lives because he had the guts and determination to do what others considered impossible."

She looked up at him. "But this is different."

He pulled back to look into her eyes. "Yes. It's different. It's frightening, too and it's difficult to have faith, but…I know your dad, and he will do everything in his power to get back to you."

"He will?"

"You bet he will," he said, and gently squeezed her shoulder. "Don't give up on him, Ladybug."

Her heart warmed a little. He was right; her dad was a fighter. Miral looked up again and found the tiny Onari star, and finally she felt a spark of hope. Joaquin had given her that which she needed most.

She laid her head on his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered.


	4. The Enemy Within

Onari

B'Elanna thought it a miracle when Solek found a protoplaser after only a little while of searching. It was an older model and needed modifications, but it would suffice, he said, if she wanted to take the chance. He didn't go into details on how or where he got it, but that didn't concern B'Elanna at the time. She just needed to be out of the hospital no matter what the risk.

When the white-haired Onari doctor finally finished mending her leg, concern etched in his brow. He gently prodded the newly healed shin, which was pink and slightly swollen.  
The affected area was still very sore. B'Elanna bit her bottom lip in anticipation of the doctor's verdict. "It didn't work," she said after a moment. Disappointment edged into her voice.

"On the contrary," he replied, looking up at her. "This residual swelling is normal when you consider the age of this particular model." He held up the protoplaser and turned it in his hand. "Usually this treatment is followed by a regimen of anti-inflammatory drugs to keep the swelling down. Unfortunately with this influx of casualties we have, there is no medication to spare. I'm afraid you'll just have to 'bite the bullet' as they say."

Solek opened the door. Always anticipating her needs, he had brought along a cane. "May I come in Doctor Isiri?"

"Of course, Commander. I've just completed the procedure," Dr. Isiri replied, replacing the medical instrument on a silver tray. "You remember I had concerns about the protoplaser's efficiency, it never having been used."

"Yes. Did you clear the emitter as we discussed?"

"Certainly," said the doctor. "Your suggestion was quite on the mark. As you can see, I was able to bring the protoplaser's efficiency to an acceptable level, and here we have a nicely healed femur. Beautiful."

Solek studied B'Elanna's leg as if it was a specimen under glass. "Remarkable."

B'Elanna cleared her throat, seems they'd forgotten there was a person attached. "Excuse me for butting in, but what does this mean for me?"

"It means, Dr. Torres, that you can go," replied Isiri. "I'm afraid I can't allow you to remain at the hospital if that's what you're wanting. We need the bed."

"It's yours," she said, already sitting up. "Thank you Dr. Isiri, for everything."

"I'm pleased to have helped you Dr. Torres," said Isiri. "You've helped me as well. With this instrument at my disposal, I can treat the more serious injuries more effectively, and if the stars are with us a few people can go home tonight."

"I hope so," said B'Elanna. "Any last instructions?"

"Try to stay off you're your feet for a few days. It'll help the swelling to go down."

B'Elanna suppressed a wry laugh. "Right." As if she'd be able to sit for any length of time while her husband was missing.

"Good luck, then Ambassador," Isiri said. He shook her hand. "And to you as well, Commander."

Solek bent his head in acknowledgement.

Isiri picked up the silver tray containing the medical instruments, and Solek held the door for him as he left.

B'Elanna did not envy the doctor his task of dealing with so many injured people. She sent a quick prayer to Kahless for strength and got to her feet. Her leg throbbed when she put her weight on it, and she was grateful for the cane Solek had brought her.

She gingerly stepped toward the door. "How long do you think it'll take to get to the embassy?"

"The embassy transport is outside. It should not take more than fifteen minutes if the roads are clear."

"Right…" She'd believe it when she saw it. The sirens had been non-stop all day with the exception of the last hour or so.

She was about to step into the corridor when another victim was carried in on a stretcher. B'Elanna moved back against the wall, giving them room to come in. The orderlies lifted the injured man onto the bed, exhibiting no concern over changing out the sheets.

She watched them work over this newest victim. He was a bloody mess covered in dirt and debris. B'Elanna knew he wouldn't survive the morning. Her stomach turned. "Let's get out of here."

"I suggest we take an obscure exit," said Solek. "If you wish to avoid reporters at this time."

"Good idea." She couldn't possibly field questions now, when she knew so little of what was happening. They stepped out into the busy hallway. "What would I do without you?"  
"A rhetorical question that deserves a response," he said as they went down the corridor. "You would do that which you must, Dr. Torres. Nothing less."

Outside the hospital, there was less sense of urgency in the air. The injured, who had lined the walks three deep, were gone. Presumably taken to other hospitals for treatment. Numerous dark patches spattered the walk where the bodies had lain. Blood had been spilt. B'Elanna had an ominous suspicion that it wasn't over yet.

The side street was empty except for a vehicle, which sat at the corner by the curb. From where she stood, it looked as if someone had packed up all their worldly belongings inside.

"It would appear the embassy transport has left prematurely," said Solek.

"That's not a good sign."

"I concur," said Solek. "But perhaps another mode of transportation is at hand." Solek walked up to the over-packed car and rapped a knuckle on the glass.

B'Elanna stood back and watched with interest. The driver rolled down the window and the Vulcan spoke with him in low tones. Solek glanced around and then jammed a hand in his jacket pocket and pulled out a wad of paper money. The commander had to be the most street-savvy Vulcan she had ever met. Seemed he could barter for anything.

The driver accepted the money and hastily turned the vehicle over to Solek, who now appeared to own all the stranger's worldly goods.

When Solek popped open the passenger door it slowly creaked open. He stepped aside and gestured for B'Elanna to get in.

The vehicle smelled of caged animals, but she climbed in and gingerly pulled her sore leg inside the compartment. When she was safely in, Solek closed the door. The vehicle rattled so loudly that she was sure it would collapse and fall apart in right there in the street. Particles of …stuff…fell from the ceiling and dusted her lap. She frowned, brushing it off with her hand.

Solek climbed in behind the wheel and slammed the other door. More particles sprinkled on top of them.

"Think we're going to make it in this bucket?" she said.

"Yes." He turned over the ignition and it sounded as if there was a rock tumbler under the hood instead of an engine. He glanced at her with a raised brow.

"We'll make it," she said to reassure them both.

Solek revved the engine once and the vehicle rumbled through the darkened predawn streets of the Onari capital.

The hospital had begun to get things under control, but chaos still had the embassy by the throat and wasn't about to let go. Media crammed every entrance. People rushed around in all directions on official business. Tearful families waited in the lobby for news of missing loved ones. B'Elanna had hoped to be able to get to her office unnoticed in all the commotion, but no such luck. One angry civilian confronted her immediately when she entered the doors. "I must get a seat on the next transport off this planet. I've been waiting here for hours, when are your people going to assist me?" Taller than B'Elanna, he drew himself up in an apparent effort to intimidate.

B'Elanna glared up at the overbearing brute. Stressed-out and building up a good rage, she was more than willing give him an assist out the door with a swift kick in the !%+, but dignity and a sore leg held her back. A good whomp on his balding head with the cane, now that wasn't out of the question. She clutched her fingers tightly around the curve of the handle.

"How dare you?" a youthful voice exclaimed from across the room. It was B'Elanna's office assistant Kaashi, come to the rescue. The girl marched up to them and inserted herself between them. "Can you not see, she's been through enough without your complaints added on top? Go speak to someone else about your selfish matters." The waif stood in front of the big man arms stiff at her sides, defiant. She looked as flimsy as a feather trying to stop the wind, but it worked. The man glowered at the both of them and finally turned to vent on another poor soul walking by.

"Oh, Ms. B'Elanna, we were so worried for you!" Kaashi wiped a hand quickly over her eyes, when they finally got into the office. "It's awful, what has happened. Oh, so awful! We could hear the explosions all the way down here. It rattled the windows. I'm so thankful you're alive!" She pulled B'Elanna's chair out from under the desk. "Please, you must sit."  
B'Elanna agreed, the cramped vehicle and the push though the crowd at the gate taxed her energy; she gratefully sat down, "Thank you, Kaashi.

"But where is Commander Solek?" the girl said looking around. B'Elanna had rarely been seen around the embassy without him for the past two weeks. Kaashi threw a hand over her mouth and her eyes grew big as saucers. "He's not—"

"He's well," said B'Elanna. "He's speaking to the press."

The girl put the hand over her heart. "I don't think I can bare another moment. It's too terrible to live." Kaashi half turned and her eyes lit upon a young dark-haired boy also in the room, standing quietly in a corner trying to blend in with the wallpaper.

"What are you waiting for, Andie?" She snapped her fingers at her brother.

The startled boy glanced at her as if just realizing she was there.

"Go fetch the Ambassador some refreshment."

He quickly scurried out of the room.

"Stupid boy," Kaashi muttered. Then she turned back to B'Elanna. "I'm so glad you're here. I couldn't reach you. I thought…everyone assumed you were dead."

"Kaashi, I'm fine, and I'm back, but I have a lot to do. I'll need to contact—" B'Elanna began, but something caught her eye. A small packet wrapped neatly in paper lying in the middle of her desk. "What's this?"

"It arrived for you only an hour ago."

"Have you scanned it?"

"Yes," Kaashi said. "It appears to be only a memory chip."

"Who sent it?"

"I don't know. It was simply on your desk. I assumed the courier brought it for you."

Her name, written in the Shantak dialect, was on the outside of the package. B'Elanna felt a prickling of fear, causing her fingers to tremble. She quickly searched her desk.

"Where's my PADD? I need it."

"I—after the explosion, everyone needed a PADD…I gave it to someone."

"You gave it to someone."

"Yes. I'm sorry, Ms B'Elanna. I didn't know…"

"Find one for me, Kaashi," she said. "Find one immediately."

Andie came into the room with a pitcher and some glasses stacked together. "Here's the water—"

"Andie. Go to Mr. Crelvin's office and get a PADD for Ms. B'Elanna out of his cabinet." Kaashi felt in her pockets. "Oh, balash! I don't have a key!"

"Don't worry about that, sissy." said Andie smiling broadly. "I don't need any key." He hurriedly set the tray down on the floor and ran back out the door, Kaashi followed after him.

B'Elanna sat at her desk, not daring to move. She wrapped her fingers tightly around the chip and she clutched it to herself. There was no doubt in her mind that this chip contained news of Tom, alive or dead. If the Shantak had him, they would of course make sure she knew about it. She would have to remain calm. It was her duty. She would not give in to the fear that clawed like an animal inside her.

Soon, Andie came bustling back into her office. "Ambassador! I found two of them," he proudly announced, and plopped the PADD's on her desk. "I got in. It was really easy this time."

"This time?" B'Elanna said, retrieving one of the PADD's "You make a habit of breaking into embassy offices?"

"No ma'am." Andie said, "Only when someone asks me to."

B'Elanna paused. "Who else has asked you to do this?"

"I..." Andie began, and then suddenly the boy went pale. "I'm not supposed to tell."

"Andie," B'Elanna said, looking intently at him. "I must know. This isn't a game. People have been hurt today and many have died. Do you understand? I need to know so I can help make things better again."

"Sometimes…Mr. Crevlin wants me to. He likes to see how fast I can do it."

B'Elanna raised a brow. "Mr. Crevlin?" So the liaison between the Onari government and the Shantak liked to break into embassy offices. This was interesting news indeed.

"Andie, I want you to wait outside in the hall for a few minutes. Don't go anywhere. I need to ask you some important questions in a little bit, okay? Find Kaashi. She'll wait with you."

"Okay."

"Close the door when you go."

The door clicked shut behind him.

Opening the top desk drawer, B'Elanna pulled out a Starfleet issue combadge and tapped it. "Mr. Solek."

"Solek here," came the quick reply.

"I need you in my office at once."

"On my way."

B'Elanna held the chip between her thumb and forefinger. Hesitant for a moment to insert it into the PADD, she closed her eyes. Kahless, give me the strength to do what I need to do.

She pushed it in, and the screen flickered on.

"I'm going back to three point oh two," said Solek as he manipulated the images on the memory chip. He kept his eyes on every nuance, looking for any clues that could lead to the Commodore's whereabouts.

B'Elanna's anger grew with each viewing. Tom sat slumped in a chair under the guard of five armed thugs. The image was out of focus for most of the duration, but she could see he had been roughly treated. There was a darkened patch under his left eye and he kept his eyes cast down on the table in front of him, giving only short responses to their accusations. He looked exhausted. They had apparently been interrogating him for a long time.

To make matters worse, they had also taken the Prime Minister's daughter, Nanishia, and strangely, Mr. Crevlin as well; each captive represented a different faction in the peace process. It was all so planned.

"From what I can see of the building, it looks as if it is in the northern region of Onari," said Solek. "Note the color in the wall behind them. It contains the reddish hue of a stone commonly used for construction in that area."

B'Elanna made a small sound of acknowledgement. North. Now that narrows it down to about half the planet. As she watched the image, something nagged at her. Something about Tom's attitude. It was deliberate. She knew her husband. He would look them in the eye, but here he kept his gaze cast down almost exclusively. Then it hit her.

"Tom, you wonderful sneaky devil! Look Solek," she said suddenly. "Look at his hand. He's tapping his finger." She nudged the Vulcan's shoulder in excitement. "It's code! He's telling us where he is!"

Solek raised both brows. "Indeed, Dr. Torres. I believe you're right."

Somewhere in the Northern region – Onari

A Shantak thug shoved Tom back into the cell with such force that he stumbled and hit the wall. Leaning back against it, he put his hands on his knees and focused on breathing. He tried to blink the blurriness out of his left eye, but it was no use.

The door slammed closed.

"What do they want us for?" said Crevlin, ready to start in on him again.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Tom replied curtly, having given up on treating Crevlin with any respect. "Punching bags, maybe?" He pushed away from the wall and found the wooden bench and slumped down onto it.

Crevlin stood over him, glaring. "We've no time for sarcasm, Commodore." There was contempt in the diplomat's expression. "I asked you what they want. You must know something. You were with them for over an hour!"

"Not by choice, I promise you."

"How could this happen? Your Starfleet should have known the danger," Crevlin went on. "Where was our protection at the banquet?"

Blood had trickled from a cut on the inside of Tom's cheek and he spat, barely missing Crevlin's shoe.

Repulsed, the diplomat shuffled back.

"You're attitude, Mr. Crevlin," said Tom. "I suggest you change it. We're on the same side of these prison walls, or are you too thick to figure that out?"

A quiet whimper from across the room dampened Tom's anger. Nanishia sat huddled on the floor in the far corner quietly crying. She was a pitiful sight in her crumpled blue ball gown with tendrils of black hair falling from the once upswept coiffeur, tears streaking her face. She had long lost her shoes and kept her feet hidden under her skirt.

Crevlin took no notice. "I will not tolerate this treatment, Paris. The Federation will pay for—"

"Shut up."

Tom went to the girl and knelt on the floor in front of her. "We're going to get out of this," he said ducking his head to see her down turned face. "Hear me?"

She looked up, and the tears sprang fresh in her eyes. "Oh," she said. "What they've done to you."

"This is nothing. You should see what they look like," he said, feigning a punch at the air.

She half smiled. "If only I could believe you, Commodore."

Tom brushed a tendril of her hair back from her face. So much like Miral, he thought. She couldn't be older than sixteen. She didn't deserve this. He was determined to get her out if it was the last thing he ever did. As of this moment he had no idea how he would do it. He got up and paced the room to take stock of their surroundings. The walls were solid stone. The floor was packed dirt, and the door was heavy and of solid wood.

It suddenly burst open. Two Shantaks barreled in, and Nanishia let out a shriek when they grabbed her arms.

Tom lunged forward. "Let her go, you—"

A weapon flashed and a jolt hit him, slamming him into the dirt floor.

She screamed again as they pulled her away, and Tom could do nothing. He could not move but to breathe. The door slammed, leaving the room eerily still. Tom could hear Crevlin's labored breathing as the large man bent down over him.

"I told you." Crevlin spoke between wheezes. "I told you this would happen. Now the Prime Minister's daughter will know Shantak cruelty and it's all because of you and your Federation."

Crevlin struggled back to his feet; the gloating apparently taxed his physical limits. He took a few shuffling steps and sat heavily on the bench, an audible splintering of wood, and flapped his stubby hand fanning his perspiration-slicked face.

Lying in the dust, Tom could do nothing but wait for the stun to wear off. When it did, he hoped his mind would be clear so he would know exactly what he was doing when he strangled that despicable diplomat.


	5. Islands

San Francisco

Early the next morning, Miral awoke with a start. She'd had a nightmare and couldn't remember what it was, only that it had frightened her. Her heart raced. For a moment she had forgotten where she was, then she remembered. She was in Janeway's guest bedroom.

A harsh red glare from the nightstand clock informed her it was barely past 4 am. She fell back on the pillow. Staring at the ceiling, eyes wide, she knew she wouldn't get back to sleep.

Tossing the covers aside, she swung her feet off the bed and quickly threw on her clothes. She was starving. She'd had no appetite for dinner last night, but now she wanted food. A raid on the kitchen was in order, if she could do it quietly.

She eased the door open and saw that the admiral's bedroom was closed. All the better. No need to wake her. A tiny light bathed the hall in a pale yellow hue. The stairs at the other end descended into a pit of darkness below.

Sneaking around the admiral's house at this hour seemed…well, sneaky, and she didn't like it. But her stomach was leading the way, so she tiptoed down the stairs. As she neared the bottom, her eyes caught a sliver of light coming from a partially open door off the kitchen.

She passed the cozy fireplace that was still radiating pleasant heat, but she didn't linger there. Curiosity had her creeping toward the open door.

Hearing voices, she stopped. "…if there's any more we can do." The voice she heard was male and it sounded like Commodore Preston speaking to Janeway over the com. He was the one who had spoken so ill of her father yesterday. Ooh, how she wanted to give him a piece of her mind.

"Thank you, Commodore," said Janeway. "You've more than helped us. The ship will be exactly what they need. You've probably helped save the science colony, and that's more than any of us hoped."

"You're welcome, Admiral, and good luck. Preston out."

Miral heard a click and knew the Admiral had just signed off her communications with Preston. She decided it best to make her presence known.

"Admiral…" she said through the crack in the door.

Janeway turned; she was already in her uniform and looked as if she was about to go to work. "Miral…come in."

Slightly uncomfortable at disturbing the admiral, Miral meekly stepped inside.

"Couldn't sleep?" said Janeway, a smile softened her previous business-like manner.

"I…got hungry."

"Of course. You didn't get to eat at all last night. You must be starving! Come with me to the kitchen," she said rising from her desk. "I've been working all night." She yawned. "We can get some coffee and—what do you like to have for breakfast, Miral?"

"Right now, I think I would eat anything," Miral said. "I'm starved."

"Then I know just the thing. A good old fashioned country breakfast like my grandma used to make."

"Do you like to cook, Admiral?"

"Well," Janeway said, looking a little sheepish, "I've programmed her recipes into my replicator, and it's a pretty good imitation if I do say so myself."

Miral had no time for words between bites of the steamy eggs and grits, and the hot buttery biscuits melted in her mouth…she thought she was in heaven. The admiral sat across from her at the breakfast bar and sipped her coffee. "You think that's good, you'd just love grandma's fried apples. Would you like to try some?"

Miral put down her fork. "I couldn't eat another bite. It was delicious." There was a warm satisfied feeling in her belly now and that was a good thing. "Thank you for letting me stay here last night."

"You can stay as long as you need to," replied Janeway. "Your Aunt Moira arrives on Thursday. You're welcome to stay here 'til then if you like."

"I've decided to go home," said Miral, a little too quickly she feared. "Thank you so much for your offer. You've been so kind to me."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," she said, "Joaquin offered to pick me up."

"Oh? When will he be coming by?"

"Around ten this morning."

Janeway got up and took Miral's plate to the sink. "My offer still stands, Miral. But I understand your need to be home." Janeway smiled again, but it wasn't an easy smile. Miral sensed something troubling behind it.

"If you're up to it, there are important things we need to discuss," said Janeway.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm up to it."

Janeway once again took her seat across from Miral. "I've spoken to your instructors at the academy. They understand that the situation on Onari effects you personally and they have given permission for you to take an indefinite period of time off, until the crisis is over."

Miral was quiet. She hadn't thought about her classes, and she didn't care at all about her grades. All she wanted was her family back and safe. She felt a lump forming in her throat again. Not now, she thought. She stared at her hands and simply nodded.

"There are some things you need to know about your parents and what they face on Onari. It won't be easy for you to hear…"

Miral sat up, she was a Paris, she reminded herself. It was time she started to act like one. She looked squarely into the admiral's eyes.

"I want to know everything, Admiral. I can handle it."

Miral lay on a lounge chair outside on the patio taking in the salty morning breeze. She'd had her talk with Janeway a couple of hours ago and she still felt numb. Miral had held herself together, and hoped her mother would have been proud, but she was emotionally drained.

She'd run it through her head countless times, but she'd never understand such a terrible situation. Why would a good man like her father, a decent man just doing his duty, be so ill treated and maybe killed—just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time?

If she thought any more about it, she would spiral down into a mire of depression from which she feared she'd never break free. So she'd made up her mind—this morning—now—that if she couldn't control what was happening around her, she would control her reaction to it. From this moment forward, Miral Paris would allow herself to feel nothing.

Drowsy from the heavy breakfast and the emotional roller coaster she'd been riding, she found it hard to keep her eyes open. Soon she was drifting to sleep on the lazy heat of the morning, slipping away from the pain and misery of the last twenty-four hours, to a quiet place of her own.

Miral...  
It was Dad's voice…from another time and another place, but it was clear and compelling, and she felt that if she went to him, all would be well again.

"That's right, Chakotay," said Kathryn Janeway with a barely suppressed smile. "A ship, the USS Prospect, is scheduled to leave for DS17 in two days. They'll be dropping off some passengers there and then she'll divert to Aristarchus. I've spoken with the Captain. He's very concerned about the problems at the colony, and wants to discuss them further with you. Says he wants the crucial scientific work on Aristarchus to continue."

Kathryn had called Chakotay at the hotel, caught him in the middle of toweling off his wet hair; the towel now draped his shoulders. "Kathryn. You're a miracle worker. Who's the Captain? Do I know him?"

"I doubt you've ever heard of him," said Kathryn, her smile finally breaking free. "His name is Harry Kim."

Chakotay laughed. "I've been away for much too long. When did he get his commission?"

"A year ago. But he can tell you all about it himself. We're going to meet him tonight to discuss the details. I'll pick you up around 7-ish?"

"Sounds good, and thank you, Kathryn."

The transmission ended. "You're welcome." Kathryn stared at the darkened comm. screen. It was good to see him again, if only for a little while.

She switched modes and pulled up a star map of Aristarchus and its surrounding systems. Onari was only a few parsecs away. With warp speed it would be easy to divert the Prospect to rendezvous with Venture already on the outskirts of Onari. That is, if its captain might see reason enough to divert there.

Kim had been known to take risks if a situation warranted them. Kathryn sat back. She harbored no illusions. By the time Prospect was ready to leave earth's orbit, Tom Paris' ordeal would likely be over, for good or bad. There was nothing more an Earthbound Admiral could do, but say her prayers and hope for the best.

She switched off the map and stood. Suppressing a yawn, she went back to the kitchen for a fresh cup of coffee, extra caffeine. It was already eight a.m. and she had stayed up all night. This should prove to be a very long day.

As Kathryn finished up her coffee the door chime rang. She pressed a button by the comm. unit and saw it was Joaquin. He smiled up at the camera and gave it a wave. Kathryn couldn't help but smile herself. "Come on in Joaquin. Door's open." She watched him look down and turn the doorknob.

The door opened across the way and he stepped in. "Morning Admiral."

"Good morning," she said. "You look well rested."

"The hotel had excellent accommodations. I haven't slept that good in ages."

No doubt the result of a clear and easy conscience, thought Kathryn. What she wouldn't now give for one of those.

"Did you know my father didn't sleep but two hours last night?" he said as he came into the kitchen. "He's going to crash. I kept telling him that, but he wouldn't listen to me."

"His thoughts must be on home," said Kathryn. She pushed a cup of coffee at him.

"Thanks."

"He was on the comm. half the night with Annika." Joaquin said. "Another raiding party hit the colony yesterday. Took some medical supplies and stole some expensive equipment. What they would want with an alpha x-ray proton spectrometer I'll never know. Unless they're a rogue band of alien geologists in desperate need of supplies." He sipped the coffee.

"Is Annika okay?" Kathryn asked.

"Everyone's fine. The thieves haven't harmed anyone—yet. If Starfleet wants to hold on to that colony, they ought to do something to protect it."

"They will. You've got a ship," Kathryn said, "There are still some details to iron out, but you'll be able to leave in a couple of days."

Joaquin's mouth dropped, then he smiled broadly. "That's great news," he said, "We expected to be here for weeks trying to convince Starfleet to help us out."

"Right now, we don't need to convince them..." Kathryn said. "With the disruption on Onari."

"That's the way it works isn't it?" Joaquin set the mug down. "Only when people have already been hurt or killed do they take any action. At least Aristarchus will be safe now." He looked around. "How's Miral?"

"Miral's fine, thanks." Miral came in from outside and slid the glass door closed. "It's getting too hot out there." She looked at Joaquin through the dark sunglasses. "You ready to go?" she said without ceremony.

Kathryn noticed that the girl's complexion was pale, though she'd been in the sun.

"Sure," he replied. He glanced at Kathryn with one raised brow.

"I'll call you when I hear anything, Miral," Kathryn said.

Miral turned her head and gazed blankly as if she needed to process what Kathryn just said. "Oh." She said automatically. "Yes, alright." She picked up her bag. "Thank you, Admiral, for letting me stay."

"My pleasure." Kathryn said. "Please, if you need anything, call me."

"Thank you, I will," she said.

"Drive carefully," Kathryn said, as they headed for the door. "Take care," she added, feeling it had to be said, as if best wishes somehow make things a little better. Joaquin turned, seeming to sense Kathryn's unease.

"Don't worry, ma'am. I'm an excellent driver." He said with a self-assured smile. "I'll make sure she gets home safely."

Kathryn didn't follow them out. Miral seemed to want to break away, to deal with this matter on her own, and Kathryn had to let go.

Shutting the door behind them, she stood for a moment with her palm pressed against the door and prayed for a miracle.


	6. Revelations

"What have you got to say for Starfleet now, Paris? They've left you here to die." Crevlin gloated; sweat gleamed on his face and neck. He looked like a pig ready for roasting and he stuck an unlit cigar in his mouth to complete the image.

Tom only glared at him, saying nothing. He should have seen this coming. Crevlin was hardly an actor; he could never fake a liking for the treaty between the Shantak and Onari. His vehemence alone when he spoke against it should have given Tom ample warning, but to even suspect an Onari official of this kind of treachery was unthinkable until a few moments ago. When Tom lay stunned on the floor, Crevlin had called in the Shantak guards and ordered binders clamped on Tom's wrists.

Now, Tom sat on the bench regaining his strength, for what good it would do, while Crevlin insisted on playing interrogator.

Crevlin stood in the doorway of the cell, in a fresh suit of clothes that he was already sweating through. His face showed confidence, but the profuse perspiration and tense tone of voice proved to Tom he was an anxious man.

"What do you suppose this is all about, eh?" continued Crevlin. "I've heard rumors, you know, about the reasons why the Federation so badly needs this treaty."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, but you must've heard them too, Paris. Your wife—being one of the negotiators and all. How could you not be in on the whole deal?"

Tom glared evenly at Crevlin. "What deal?"

"You can't tell me you don't know about the blocking of Shantak trade throughout the system, weakening their economic might, turning this entire planet over to the Onari invaders in one fell swoop?" Chrevlin shook with rage. "Three hundred years ago, the Shantak welcomed a small group of Onari to their world—gave them shelter—when they should have killed them. By rights the Federation should be helping the Shantak. This world belongs to them."

"You know as well as I do, that this treaty is the one thing that will bring peace to the system." said Tom, knowing that arguing was futile. "You're an Onari citizen…you should stop the violence. Not perpetuate it."

"I was a citizen once, but I saw the truth. The Onari stole this planet and now the Federation is making it legal with that 'peace treaty'."

"You're wrong."

"Tell me, then," said Crevlin. "Why does the Federation have a permanent base on Aristarchus? And on Chartus…those are military bases, are they not?"

Tom said nothing. Obviously, Crevlin sought sensitive information. Tom knew a little about the settlements on those worlds, but they were for research only as far as he knew, and although they were affiliated with Starfleet, they were not military in function.

Crevlin's face was now blotchy; he was apparently irritated at Tom's silence. Maybe the guy would have a heart attack right here and solve a major problem, but to Tom's surprise, he merely chuckled. Crevlin leaned back on the doorframe, reached into his jacket, and pulled out a small silver device.

Tom couldn't guess what it was until Crevlin snipped off the end of his cigar with flash of a bright laser.

Crevlin smiled, pinching the cigar between his yellow teeth. "And that's it, eh? You won't discuss the bases on Aristarcus and Chartus? Have I hit on truth here? What are the Federations plans for them?"

Tom flexed his hands, the binders were tight and his fingers were stiff from poor circulation.

Crevlin lit the tip of his cigar with the same curious little tool. Smoke billowed from the side of his mouth in great carcinogenic clouds. "Have you nothing to say?"

"It's bad for your health," Tom said.

Crevlin chuckled. "What, this _one_ cigar?"

"No," said Tom. "Holding me here, and Nanishia. You don't realize what you've gotten yourself into."

"So I've gotten myself into some shit, eh?" He leaned forward. "When we're through with you, the Federation will reconsider its ties with the Onari. They'll pay the price for their treachery in your blood."

This was the moment. Tom leaped up, rammed his shoulder into Crevlin's soft middle. Air gushed out from the big man's lungs all at once, and they both fell in a heap to the floor. While Crevlin rolled and wheezed trying to recover from the shock, Tom searched for the object that flew from his tormentor's hand. He saw the cigar lying one side where it smoldered in a corner, but where..?

Two Shantak rushed in and seeing Crevlin incapacitated on the floor, they went for Tom. Just before they grabbed him to haul him up, Tom's hand clasped around a metal object.

"Take him…out of…here," said Crevlin between wheezes. He sat up and pushed back the stringy sparse hair back over his balding head. "I don't expect…to see him again."

Tom was dragged out of the cell; the Shantak gripped his arms so tightly he could feel his own pulse pounding through his veins.

Outside in the compound stood a waiting military style van, heavily armored and two armed thugs in the cab.

They shoved him into the back, where Nanishia already waited, she was pale and there were bruises on her arms and neck. The door slammed with a clang, leaving them in a tomb of darkness.

"We'll get out of this," he said in an effort to reassure them both.

The engine started up and the vehicle began to move.

"They'll take us to their camp at the base of the mountains," she said quietly. "That's what they told me. There, they said they…would…"

"Don't think it," said Tom. "It's not going to happen. Despite what they say, they're moving us because they're afraid we'll be found and their game will be up. All we need to do is buy some time…a few more hours and then we'll be free."

"Are you blind, Commodore?" she countered, fear and anger gave her voice a rough edge. "The Shantak have us. We're already dead."

"No. We're not. I have powerful friends, Nanishia," said Tom. "And…I have a plan."

* * *

B'Elanna had been up for over 26 hours straight. The strain wore on her body and soul. She lay back on the sofa in her office and propped her aching leg propped up on a cushion. This remedy didn't help much, but it kept her from pacing the floor and aggravating the injury.

They were narrowing in on Tom and Nanishia's location, but time was crucial. If they didn't rescue them soon, it would be too late.

And if Crevlin was with them, Kahless help him, because B'Elanna was in no mood to give quarter. In her eyes, he was a black-hearted cur who deserved nothing less than a slow torturous death. From what the boy Andie had been able to tell of his break-ins at the embassy, it was clear that Crevlin had been gathering information long before the night of the banquet. He had planned these kidnappings for weeks, and the bombings that killed all those innocent people.

Her combadge chirped. Her eyelids were heavy from lack of sleep, but she answered. "Torres."

"I have made contact with the Venture," said Solek. "They will be in transporter range within the hour."

"They're finally allowing ships into the system. Can they get here any faster?"

"Negative. They're at maximum warp now."

"Alright. I'll be ready. Contact me when they're within range. I don't think I can stand this place another minute."

"Affirmative. Solek out."

B'Elanna sat up. The idea crossed her mind to call on Kaashi to get her a strong coffee, but the girl was home. B'Elanna dismissed her much to the girl's protestations. She knew she would no longer need the girl's services, because she wasn't coming back to this planet again. Ever. She'd had enough. The endless fighting and cruelty…with no real solutions in sight.

And if the found Tom alive and brought him safely back, B'Elanna would want to spend time with her family to help mend the damage, to make them whole again. If he didn't make it, if the unimaginable happened, Miral would need her more than ever.

They would need each other.

With that thought, B'Elanna got up and went to her desk. She would use the hour to compose a subspace message to their daughter. Miral needed to hear from her, and B'Elanna felt awful at having neglected that vital responsibility.

How to begin? After a moment, she started the recording.

"Miral," she said, and paused not sure she could continue. But she gathered her courage and the words finally came. "Your father and I love you very much…"


	7. Happy Birthday

San Francisco

Unseasonable weather coasted in on the tail of the rain last night, and the morning turned out to be a muggy one. Miral walked across the admiral's drive toward Joaquin's car. She was grateful for the cotton tee and slacks Janeway had loaned her. She would have cooked in her cadet uniform.

Joaquin opened the passenger side of the car to let her in.

She paused to admire the vehicle. "_This_ is a _rental_?" It was a hot little number, yellow, streamlined, and sleek, like they could blast into space in it.

"Well, yes, and no," Joaquin replied. "It's a long story, but the short of it is, Chakotay knows people," he shrugged, "One of them owns a company that rents cars like this out to the movie industry. You might have seen this one before."

"No, I don't think I have," she said.

"From _Doomsday III_. You know, The _Eradicator_?"

"Oh." she said, suddenly remembering. "_Those_ movies. Never seen them."

She climbed in. When he closed the door, she felt as if she were sealed in a noise proof chamber. She ran her hand along the leather seat. Nice.

Joaquin climbed in behind the wheel. "I can't believe you haven't seen an _Eradicator_ movie. When we finally get them on Aristarcus, everybody goes crazy." He shrugged. "Of course, we get excited over every movie we get, they're so few and far between."

"How fast can it go?" she asked.

"I don't know, 150, 175—" he said. "Haven't tried it yet."

"Let's do it."

He paused with his hand on the ignition and paused and gave her a wry look.

But Miral wasn't letting it go. "A car like this needs to be driven. Let's see if we can break 200." She put on her seatbelt.

He started the engine and slowly pulled away from the curb. "Right, let's do that," he said. "I'm sure the folks in this gated community would love it."

"Then find a long stretch somewhere. Out in the desert there's bound to be a lonely place where no one will see us."

"No."

"Why?" she said defiantly, "Are you afraid we'll get caught?"

He stopped driving and glared at her, obviously annoyed. "Miral, drop the charade, alright? I'm taking you home. I'm not going to joyride with you. You need rest. Your life was turned upside down yesterday—"

"Who are you to tell me what I need?" she blurted, suddenly angry. "You've been away for years! You couldn't possibly know what I need!" She wished she could stop, but something was building up inside her that she could not control.

He gave her a long sober look, his arm draped over the steering wheel, his fingers drumming the dash. Then abruptly, he turned back to the wheel and jerked the car into reverse. "I'm taking you back." He threw his right arm over the back of her seat and watched the road behind him as he backed up. "You shouldn't be home alone right now. I don't know what I was thinking,"

His jaw was tight. Joaquin was angry or hurt, she couldn't tell which, but she knew she had caused it. Guilt started in on her. He had been supportive and gone out of his way to help her, and this was how she repaid him. He didn't deserve to be treated this way, and yet she couldn't bring herself to take it back.

The car stopped in front of Janeway's house. "The admiral offered to let you stay," he said. "I think you should take her up on it."

"Please take me home, Joaquin," she pleaded. "I can't stay here. She's not my family." Her voice broke and tears tried to start but she blinked them back.

He muttered something under his breath and then for a long time, said nothing. He just stared at the road ahead, seeming to mull it over in his mind.

Then after an interminable moment, just when she figured he'd force her to get out, Joaquin spoke. "Chakotay and I are leaving in a couple of days," he said, as if he were thinking aloud. "There's no way around it. We_ have _to go."

She saw that he was troubled and she sensed it ran far deeper than he let on.

"If I take you home, you'll end up alone," he said. "I can't do that to you. Not now."

"Then I'll get a cab, or ride a transport, or I'll walk," she said. "Doesn't matter. I'm going home." She crossed her arms over her chest defiantly, slumping down further into the bucket seat, and looked out the window. Anything was better than looking in his dark eyes. She couldn't stand to see pity there or hurt. Her chin trembled and she bit her lip. She just wanted to be home.

After a long silence, the car began to move forward again.

"I'm sorry," she said after finding her voice. "I'm being mean on purpose and I don't know why."

They drove in silence the rest of the way home.

* * *

Joaquin hadn't said a word most of the drive along the highway. Miral began to feel uncomfortable, so she was secretly pleased when once they got to the back roads, the outdoorsman came out of his shell. "This is beautiful country," he said.

"My parents prefer the hard-to-reach places. Can't stand the city." She watched the countryside roll by. They were getting into the redwoods and Miral felt better just knowing that. She'd grown up in the secluded, forested areas and felt at home in them.

Her family's withdrawal to this quiet place was partially a result of her parent's unique union—there just weren't many human/klingon couples around—they grew tired of the questions. Mostly though, it was because they wanted their daughter to have a normal childhood, a difficult task when everyone wanted to know about the baby born just as Voyager returned to the Alpha Quadrant. The crew's unexpected arrival, especially baby Miral's, was a big deal in the press. She was 'baby of the moment', and everyone wanted her.

Her parents tried to keep her away from the spotlight, but one day when reporters followed a 3-year-old Miral to daycare resulting in tearful disruption of her day, her parents decided they'd had enough. They withdrew her from the public eye. She spent her earliest years with private tutors, living in seclusion until the reporters finally cooled off.

Since then, Miral led a relatively normal life until now. She worried that they would resume their interest in her with this latest tragedy and was very much relieved that when Joaquin pulled into the winding drive there was no sign of reporters waiting at the house.

Even though the house was two stories, set in at the base of towering Sequoia redwoods, it had always appeared small to Miral. Now it was lonely as well.

Joaquin parked the car next to the garage. "It's been a while since I've been here."

"I feel the same." She had been living in an apartment to be closer to her classes. "I haven't been back in weeks." She opened the car door and stepped out onto the gravel drive. "Feels good to be back," she said with a sigh. Her throat tightened a little, so she hurried up the walk to the front door.

At the stone step leading up to the door, there sat a quiet bouquet of flowers. She bent down and lifted them up, turning them to admire the arrangement.

"I wonder who they're from," she said.

"There's a card," said Joaquin. He had come up the walk behind her. He picked up a slip of white off the flagstone stoop and handed it to her. "Must've fallen out."

She opened the card. "Oh!"

"Who's it from?" he said.

"A boy in my physics class. Tad Bishop."

"_Tad?_" he said, "Is he your boyfriend?"

"No," she said, staring at the card. "We didn't have time to—but I never expected he'd send me flowers."

"He must care about you."

"No, he couldn't. I hardly know him."

"Miral, all a guy would have to do is look at you and he'd do anything to get to know you."

Why did she feel butterflies in her stomach all of a sudden? She glanced at him and decided not to think about it.

She stepped up to the door and punched the security code into the keypad. The lock mechanism clicked and she opened it.

When she stepped across the threshold, she was disappointed that the house didn't feel different without her parents. It looked the same, as if they would walk through the front door any minute.

"Looks like you've got some messages," Joaquin said. He had stopped at a little desk by the foyer.

"I do?" Her heart quickened. The small computer her parents used for _E_messaging was flashing its little red light. She counted seven messages in all. She stared at the unit for a few moments, irresolute on what to do next.

"I'll leave you alone," Joaquin said already stepping away. "I'll just go to the kitchen if that's alright."

"Yeah," she said nodding her head absently. "That'll be fine."

He took the flowers. "I'll uh…water these. Let me know if you need anything."

"Okay."

* * *

After he left, she turned to the little console. She didn't want to look. What if the news was bad? She knew she couldn't run from it. No matter what, she must face everything head on.

Turning on the screen, she quickly went over the list of messages. Inge, Aunt Moira, Inge, good girl. She did care. There was one from Marlong and associates. Lawyers! Would she have to deal with them too? She scanned the rest of the list and the last message was from her parents. She paused. The subject line read: _Happy Birthday!_ With a shaking hand, she touched the screen and opened it. After a second or two of download the message played.

"_Happy Birthday!" _Her parents said in unison, their smiling faces lit up the screen. Dad was in uniform. It looked like they'd recorded the message on the way to Onari, when they were still aboard Venture.

He spoke. "_We want to make this a special birthday. You're turning 18 after all, an official adult." _He turned to Mom._ "So what do we have planned?" _

_"It was your idea," _she said. "_I think you should tell her." _

"Okay," said Dad looking as if he could hardly keep it to himself, "Miral, when we get back we're taking you and a friend to…drum roll please…" Mom drummed her hands on the table. "An all expenses paid trip to…Colorado! Where you and a friend will spend two glorious weeks in the Rocky Mountains skiing snowboarding and— I'll teach you some of my more famous extreme ski maneuvers—"

Mom broke in._ " I don't think so" _Then to the camera, "_He's a bit old for that now, don't you think, Miral?" _

_"Old?" _said Dad a slight hint of disappointment in his voice._ "Don't ruin my daughter's image of me hon." _He kissed her forehead and leaned back, partially out of shot for a moment.

_"I just want you to stay in one piece," _Mom retorted, raising her brows and giving him a good solid look before turning back to the camera. _"Happy Birthday, Miral. We miss you and love you, and—" _

Dad spoke up. _"Don't forget the…you know."_

_"What?" _Mom looked puzzled for a moment and then came recognition._ "Oh, right! How could I forget? We left you a little something. It's in a little pink box in the top of our closet. It's not much, but we think you'll like it," _she said with a smile. _"We wanted to leave it for you just in case we didn't get home in time. We love you! Hope your exams went well." _

_"Let me talk to my daughter for a second." _Dad came back into the shot and Mom stood and stepped out of the picture. He glanced discretely in Mom's direction then said quickly,_ "We'll get out on the slopes together, you and me. Don't worry about Mom, we'll send her out shopping or someth— Ow!" _A pillow hit his turned around._ "You're bad, 'Lanna," _he admonished, but when he turned back, he was smiling. Mom came up behind him and draped her arms down over his shoulders. Her hands came together over his chest, enclosing him in a casual embrace. He reached up and covered her clasped hands with one of his own._ "We'll be back soon," _he said, his smile slightly fading. _"When our job on Onari is done. Bye-bye, Miral. Miss you…Happy Birthday, honey." _Mom ducked her head into the picture, pressing her cheek next to his._ "Happy Birthday." _End of message.

Miral sat in silence staring at the screen. It had returned to the main menu, and back to the six other messages she would not view. She felt empty and numb and very alone.

It hurt to see them happy and smiling, unaware of the dangers yet to befall them. What would she do if she lost them both?

She closed her eyes, and pressed her palms to her face. Her hands were cold as ice and, it was then she noticed the tears that wet her cheeks. She brusquely wiped them away.

Little pink box…

She walked down the hall toward her parents' room. The door was open, and dappled sunlight shone in through the windows. The room was bright, but quiet and still, no one was there, but still she felt she should make as little noise as possible.

She opened the closet door and looked up at the shelves. There, under a stack of blankets, was a flash of pink. She took the blankets and set them neatly on the floor. Her mother had joked about the size of the present; the box was long. Miral knew what the package held. She pulled it down, balancing the weight of it on her fingertips. Setting one end down on the floor, she opened the little white card attached. _You're eighteen! _It read. _And it's all "downhill" from there! Love Mom and Dad._

The writing blurred and her breath hitched. She tore the wrapping paper down the side.

She laid the box on the floor and slid the skis out halfway. They were perfect, polished and glossy. They were the skis she had longed for, and had expected to bargain her life for.

* * *

"So when are we leaving?" Joaquin stood at the kitchen sink drawing water from the tap into a vase he'd found under the sink.

Chakotay's voice came over the speakerphone.

_"We were going to leave in two days, but they were able to move it up to tomorrow."_

"Tomorrow?"

_"I have to go. But you can take a few more days if you need to. You can still catch a shuttle."_

Joaquin rubbed the back of his neck. "A shuttle trip would take weeks."

_"I know. It's your call,"_ Chakotay said. _"How's Miral?"_

"I don't think she's doing very well, she's trying to hide I think. I'll stay here for a little while; make sure she's okay. But I want to go with you tonight, when you go over the plans with Captain Kim."

"Good. Listen. I've got a couple of appointments this morning, but I'll be done by noon. I'll come by after that and see her."

"She would like that."

"See you then."

The transmission ended. Just as Joaquin hung up, he heard small whimpering sounds coming from the back of the house. He rushed out of the kitchen and followed the sounds to the bedroom. He found Miral on the floor of the closet, pink wrapping paper all around her.

"Miral…"

She looked up at him, and sobbed. "I don't want them anymore. I don't—need skis."

He knelt beside her. He could find no words of comfort. How could he tell her that things would be alright? They both knew better. The only thing he could do was let her cry it out, so he simply held her.

She looked up at him after a time. "I'm sorry, Joaquin. First I yell at you then I cry like a baby. I'm pretty pathetic." She wiped her eyes.

"No, you're not. You have nothing to apologize for. No one should ever have to go through what you're going through."

"I just want things to be good again and I—" Her eyes flashed. She sat up, suddenly alarmed.

Joaquin, stunned at her sudden mood change sputtered, "What—?"

"I knew it!" She exclaimed as abruptly got up and pushed past him. "I'll show them!"

"What are you talking about?"

She went to the bedroom door and grabbed the knob. She gestured at the window. "_Spies!_" she said breathless and fuming with rage.

Joaquin turned. There watching them through the window was one of those damned hov-cams. "Shit."

She yanked the door open and rushed out of the bedroom.

"Miral stop!" He got up and followed her.

She was at the front door now, trying to get out. "They'll ruin everything!" She yanked on the knob but it didn't open the door.

"Wait!" he said and put his hand on the door to stop her. She was in a rage, her hair in her face and eyes blazing. If that wasn't Klingon temper, he'd never see it. She slapped furiously at his hand and it stung.

"Hey!" he said. "Slow down!" He grabbed her wrist to stop her from delivering another blow. She was breathing hard and staring at him as if he'd gone crazy.

"Let me go!"

"I'm not going to let you fly out there half crazy. You have to think this through."

"My life is falling apart and they don't care!" she said. "Well I'm not going to let them do this to me again! This is my life, not some freak show!"

"Miral, you've got to control yourself." Her eyes were bright and intense with a wildness he'd never seen before. She was shorter than him, but the fury she now held inside her made her seem formidable indeed. Her fist clenched.

"Easy." he said. Her arms relaxed, and he let her go. "Alright now, let's talk this throu—" She dodged around him in an attempt to get to the back door, but he caught her.

"Let me go!" she screamed at him. "Let me go!" She was a wildcat.

"Ow! Miral!" he said when her fingernails dug into his knuckles to loosen their grip. "Don't. I'm only trying to help you. Ah!" She kicked his shin and he let loose.

"Alright then, go out there. Make a fool of yourself," he said. "You won't do your parents any good if you go out there half crazy. You'll only bring more trouble down on yourself."

She stared at him, fists clenched and chin quivering. After a moment, her stance dissolved and she grasped the back of a chair. "But it's not my fault." she said in a small pitiful voice, "I didn't ask for this!"

He went to her. "I know." he moved her to the couch and sat her down . Once he was sure she would stay, he went to close all the blinds. He glanced out the front window and saw that a few cars had pulled up even had the audacity to start setting up their cameras. "The way I see it we have two options. I could go out there and tell them to leave, or we could prepare a statement, give them something to satisfy their need for a sound bite."

"Why would I want to give them anything?" she asked. "They want to exploit me."

"No," he said, "They want a story."

"You're on their side!"

"I'm on yours."

"You don't know what it's like to be hounded by them night and day, I do. I just want to be left alone."

"If you give them what they want, they'll ease off. Give you space," he said. He came back and sat down next to her. "If you storm out there blasting away at them, you'll bring more of them down on you. Is that what you want?"

She said nothing. Sullen. At least it looked as if she was taking his advice.

The doorbell rang.

"Tell them to go away," she said.

"All right. Just, try to relax." He got up and went to the door.

* * *

She crossed her arms over her chest and turned away.

She could hear him talk quietly to them, and he seemed to have to do a lot of convincing.

Just a sound bite. Just a few minutes and it'll all be over. Maybe somehow, it would help.

"Wait," she said somewhat reluctantly.

Joaquin turned.

"I'll talk to them," she said.


	8. Rush

**Onari**** Desert**

The Shantak driver sped on through the blazing midday heat, and dust kicked up through cracks in the doors and around the rusted wheel wells, clouding the back of the van in a haze of fine dust particles. From the bitter metallic taste his mouth, and the orange silt that dusted his clothes, Tom surmised that they were crossing a vast desert just south of the mountain range known as the Kintaras.

He'd heard of a secret Shantak base there, but it had never been officially confirmed. What he did know—and it weighed heavily on his mind at this moment—was that these Shantak meant to kill Nanishia and him. That turncoat Crevlin had ordered it, and it was just a matter of time before their captors followed through on that order.

Tom had an escape plan, but working out the details with Nanishia was risky at best. A small window between the back of the van and the cabin had been broken out; the guards would overhear anything the captives might say to one another. So Tom kept quiet; he didn't want to risk bringing on the Shantaks' wrath too soon.

He still clutched Crevlin's fancy laser cigar cutter tightly in his hand. He tried to visualize how to orient the device so that he only cut the ropes that tied his wrists and not his fingers, but the bonds were too high and out of his own reach.

Seeing his attempt, Nanishia backed up to him and eased the device from his hands.

Even though her own hands were bound behind her as well, her position allowed her to deftly grab hold of his bonds and begin to work the cutter around them. Suddenly he felt a snap. The ropes had slackened, and his wrists were free.

Staying low, he turned to free Nanishia, the scent of burnt rope wafted into the air. The Shantak beside the driver uttered a curse and a brief but heated argument ensued. The driver slammed on the brakes, sending the captives headlong into the metal divider.

Tom heard a door open and ignoring his pain, he peered through the broken out window. He couldn't believe his luck. The Shantak assumed the burning smell had come from the engine. The driver had opened the door and climbed out to investigate the trouble, leaving the other Shantak in the truck cursing to himself and clutching a weapon in his restive hands.

Motioning for Nanishia to back away, Tom took a long piece of the rope from the floor, wrapped the ends securely around his palms and took a steady breath. He glanced through the window again. The hood was up and the driver was presumably on the other side studying the engine.

The passenger chose that time to reach for something, inadvertently giving Tom a clear shot. He plunged his arms through the window, looping the ropes around the Shantak's neck and pulling it taut. The Shantak gagged and drew up his weapon, but it fumbled from his hands and he grasped his throat, fingers prying at the rope.

The driver slammed down the hood, Tom saw him for a brief moment before the driver dropped down out of sight. Damn, that's just what he needed. "Come on!" he said through his gritted teeth, straining to keep the rope taut against the struggling Shantak. _Die already. _As if on cue, the Shantak fell unconscious, Tom grabbed the weapon and pulled it back through the window.

"Where's the driver?" Nanishia asked

"Stay down," Tom ordered, and grasping the weapon he cautiously peered through the window. The driver was nowhere to be seen.

Nanishia lifted herself up and peered over the back beside him. "He's gone?" she said in a small voice.

"I said stay down!" Just as he spoke a blast hit them. Tom fell, but quickly righted himself. A gaping hole had been blasted into the side of the van barely missing them.

Tom looked back and sized up the small window to the cab and decided Nanishia was small enough to squeeze through. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to the window. "Drive! Get us out of here!"

Another blast hit the back and it tore into the divider next to Tom, ripping through to the front seat. The melted padding dripped like water. Nanishia squeezed herself through. Tom scrambled to see out holes in the back and then caught a flash; the driver stood a couple of meters back with his weapon raised. Tom fired through the hole and the driver collapsed into the dust.

Nanishia let out a startled scream, and the vehicle shot forward. Through the smoke and dust Tom saw the driver struggle to stand up. Tom had wounded him, but he didn't know how severely.

In the distance, he discerned a few dark shapes on the horizon. Could be other vehicles. Their best chance was to keep moving. Tom sat back and wiped the sweat from his eyes.

"Where am I going?" shouted Nanishia from the cab.

Tom looked up front. Desert surrounded them, but he could just discern the dark peaks of the Kintaras up ahead. It was the only place they could go. The desert was too open and they wouldn't survive long without water. They might find water near the mountains, along with an angry Shantak hive, but he saw no other alternative. "Drive straight on," he said. "When I think it's safe to stop, we'll dump our friend here, then I'll take the wheel."

"Okay," she said a little shakily.

Tears had made clean streaks through the dust on her face, but she was trying to put up a brave front. Tom put a hand through the window and patted her shoulder. "You did well, Nanishia," he said. "You got us out of there."

They weren't out of danger yet, not by a long shot, but they had gotten through the tough part. Tom was sure that if they stayed out of Shantak hands long enough, the Venture would find them and transport them out of this hell.

* * *

**USS Venture**

Only a little time had passed between the moment Solek contacted B'Elanna at the embassy and informed her they were now within transporter range and the moment she materialized onto the transporter deck of the USS Venture. B'Elanna stepped down and immediately headed for the double doors. She had to speak to Solek and discover the status of the search for her husband. She ignored the transporter technician who held up a finger as if he were about to say something. There was no way in hell she would delay here when she could be aiding in the search.

The doors swished open and B'Elanna, cane in hand, marched through them nearly colliding with another woman just coming into the transporter room.

"Oh!" The startled woman jumped back throwing a hand to her chest.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant," said B'Elanna. The apology was an automatic response, a remnant from her recent diplomatic dealings. She inwardly groaned at the ease of which she said it. A Klingon would never be so…so _pusillanimous_.

Oblivious to B'Elanna's volatile temper, the Lieutenant smiled. "It was entirely my fault, Dr. Torres." She noticed the cane B'Elanna leaned on, and her brows shot up. "Are you alright, Ma'am? I hope I didn't hurt you."

"You didn't," said B'Elanna through clenched teeth. "You are, however, in my way."

The younger woman straightened and her green eyes grew a little wider, finally discerning B'Elanna's mood. "I'm Lieutenant Verdi. I've come to assist you to sickbay, Dr. Torres."

B'Elanna felt her blood begin to boil. She gave Verdi a hard look. "I'm not going to sickbay," she growled and started to go around her.

Verdi sidestepped and blocked her. "Commander Solek has given me strict orders to escort you directly to sickbay."

"Did he."

"Yes, Ma'am."

B'Elanna studied the woman for a moment. Judging by the uniform, Verdi was an engineer, just as B'Elanna once was—_still_ was. Solek calculated everything down to the minutest detail. Of course he would send someone from engineering. Someone she would possibly trust or at least be civil to—the Vulcan devil. As soon as Tom returned, she'd have him call off that watchdog. He was making a considerable nuisance of himself.

Taking B'Elanna's silence as a refusal, Verdi quickly stated the rest of her orders. "I'm sorry Ma'am, if you don't come voluntarily, we will beam you there." Verdi raised her hand to hover over her combadge.

"Of all the…" B'Elanna began, but thought better of it. The pain in her leg, which she had so far ignored, had started to flare up. The limp had worsened to the point that she would eventually have to crawl to sickbay. She gestured to the end of the hall. "Alright then, I'll go," she said, taking a deep breath.

"I'll brief you on the search for the commodore on the way," Verdi offered.

"Good." B'Elanna decided that she might be civil to this woman after all.

* * *

"Do still believe we're being followed, Commodore?"

"They're not going to give up so easily, Nanishia," Tom said, as he scavenged the van for supplies. After they'd dumped their Shantak captor, they had only driven about five kilometers when the vehicle ran out of fuel, and stopped dead at the edge of the foothills. "There isn't a great stockpile of supplies here, not much water either. They weren't planning to travel far, so we can assume there's a Shantak base within a few kilometers at least." He pulled out a small crate and opened it. "Plenty of ammunition though," he said, after seeing the bright blue cartridges inside.

He studied the small pile of salvageable goods he'd collected. One empty water bottle, one rifle, couple of knives, pack of some sort of sweet candy stuck together in one lump, a pair of black boots…

"Take these," he said handing the boots to her. "We'll be doing a lot of walking."

She took them gingerly, between her fingers and thumb. "I would rather go barefoot than put these disgusting things on my feet," she said then looked down, already her feet were covered in cuts and abrasions. She frowned. "Under better circumstances, that is." Reluctantly, she climbed into the front seat of the van and began to untangle the laces.

"That's my girl," said Tom, and he turned back to gathering the supplies. He'd said that to Miral many times, usually when she finally relented to do something her heart wasn't set on. His beautiful, stubborn daughter. He could see her now, jaw set, determined to have her way. His heart ached at the very thought of her, but at least she was safe and light years away from this desolate place.

"Is your ship, Venture far?" Nanishia asked, "How will we contact them?"

Tom put a hand on the open side door and paused, thankful at least for a break in his thoughts. "That, Nanishia, is a very good question. We'll need a communicator of some sort." He gestured to a small device lying cattycornered on the dash. "Hand me that. Looks like it might serve that purpose."

"This?" She picked it up. "It doesn't look like much."

"Looks can be deceiving." He examined the small black device. He never would have believed it if he hadn't seen one years before. What he held in his hand was a classic communicator, first used in the mid-23rd century and so basic in its components and structure, that people had used them reliably for years after they'd been discontinued. It wasn't unusual to find the Shantak in possession of Federation materiel, since it was often traded on the black market. He flipped open the antenna and heard the ancient Starfleet issue chirp. "Oh, yeah. This will work just fine."

"Commodore."

Nanishia's voice was a whisper. Tom looked up at her.

"Someone is coming." She pointed straight ahead at the horizon.

The sun was at midday, and Tom put up a hand to block the glare. Burnt orange dust clouds billowed up into the blue sky, and dark shapes moved before them. They were vehicles all right.

"My father, he commands the government troops," she said. "He could have sent them to find us." She didn't sound convinced of her own theory and she looked to Tom for reassurance. "It could be them, couldn't it?"

Even from this distance, Tom could see it was a ragtag group. There was no uniform size or shape to the oncoming vehicles, and the smallest one in the front jetted about erratically from one side to the other. "Not likely." Tom slung the rifle over his shoulder. "We're not staying here to find out. Come on."

* * *

They disappeared easily into the hills as desert gave way to rocky terrain and outcrops of vegetation. After about an hour, the ground rose up sharply and formed a solid wall in front of them. The air was cooler here and freshly scented. Tom thought they might find water past this ridge, and that was something they desperately needed.

"Can you climb?" he asked. "I think there's water on the other side."

Nanishia had been watching behind them, she bit her lip. Without a word she started to step up, grabbing onto jutting roots to help pull herself up.

"When the Tom wedged his foot behind the small sapling and waited for Nanishia to reach the top. He prepared to catch her if she slid back.

"A spring!" Nanishia exclaimed.

She started to scramble over the edge. Pebbles and sand kicked out from underneath her boots and Tom put a hand up to keep the showering objects from his face. "Wait," he said and he grabbed her ankle with his other hand. Nanishia stopped scrambling and waited for him to climb up to her.

A small blue green pool lay a few meters below them. It was the first water they'd seen since their capture and Tom wanted to rush down to it as much as Nanishia, but Shantak needed water too, and he didn't want to surprise any by rushing out into the open.

He led her around the lip of the ridge on a route thicker in foliage that gave them more cover. By the time they got to the water, Tom was pretty certain they were alone in their discovery and he allowed Nanishia to scoot down to the edge and get a drink.

From underneath a small overhang of rock, Tom could see the upper ridge and spot anyone approaching the pool from most sides. He put down the bag of supplies and opened up the communicator. The chirp sounded and once again, Tom felt a pang of hope. He was taking a risk by using this communicator; the Shantak might be able to pinpoint their location with its signal, but it was a risk he'd have to take.

* * *

B'Elanna sat on the biobed and watched as the doctor deftly repaired her leg. The doctor was android and dispensed with the idle banter in which a carbon based life form might be obliged to engage during a meticulous medical procedure such as this. He moved swiftly and efficiently and B'Elanna used this quiet time to process what Verdi had told her on the way to sickbay.

As soon as Venture had gotten within sensor range, they had been scanning the northern desert regions, but with no luck so far. Reports came back jumbled and indecipherable from some regions. Speculation had it that the Shantak had acquired scrambling devices to thwart such scanning attempts. The devices were crude, and Verdi determined that it wouldn't take much longer to adjust and rescan those areas. As soon as she was able, B'Elanna intended to go help Verdi make sure the adjustments went as quickly as possible.

The doctor disengaged the protoplaser. "Your leg is as good as new, B'Elanna."

She hopped off the biobed and felt no pain at all. "Well, Doctor, I'll admit, it's a relief to be out of that misery."

"You are welcome," said the doctor. "And please, call me B-4. I find that in relating with my patients it is more productive to use informal language. It makes the sickbay a _friendlier_ place. Would you not agree?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned to clean up his equipment. "If you will pardon me, B'Elanna, I must now prepare for surgery."

Puzzled, B'Elanna looked around. There were no other patients in sickbay. "Expecting the worst, B-4?"

"The commodore has been away for a long time. I find it best to be prepared for any circumstance."

B'Elanna said nothing, unsettled as she was at B-4's frankness. Leave it to an android to give a direct answer. She started to go, but the comm flashed an urgent message.

_"Bridge to B-4."_

"B-4 here."

"Report to the transporter room immediately. We have found the commodore."

* * *

_"Solek, here. Commodore, are you alright?"_

Tom felt as if he'd struck gold, on his first attempt he'd gotten through to the Venture. Their rescue was at hand. "Solek," he said, and motioned for Nanishia to come to him. "Can you lock onto our location?"

_"Standby."_

"They heard us!" Nanishia laughed in amazement. "Oh, it's wonderful!"

There was a pause and the communicator crackled and the light flickered. Tom had an uneasy feeling. Things had gotten a little too quiet. He motioned for her to move back behind him.

Nanishia took a step.

A streak of hot bright color flashed, and rock exploded above them. Nanishia screamed and covered her head protectively with her arms. Tom twisted and saw the Shantak level the rifle from the shelter of the ridge. Tom had been distracted, _damn it_, and the Shantak now had the upper hand. Two more of the enemy sprang up.

"Beam us, now!" Tom stepped in front of Nanishia and raised his weapon. Another flash and it hit with brutal force—violent tearing of flesh…a snapping of bone. When the transporter took them, he had yet to feel any pain.

* * *

An instant later, they fell, hitting the solid transporter platform in a rush of pain that ripped Tom's breath away.

A flurry of activity. Urgent voices. He heard his name, but could not respond. He saw only Nanishia's face; violent slashes of red streaked across, but it was the eyes, wide and fixed that told him she was dead.

Hands were on him, lifting him away. "Help her." he said, but no one seemed to hear, they just kept shouting and prodding. No, he tried to say, but he couldn't form the word.

Then B'Elanna was there, behind the shoulders of those giving aid. "Hold on, Tom," she said. "You'll be alright."

Her voice faded, "You'll be alright…"


	9. Never Leaving You

Chapter 9 – _Never Leaving You _

B'Elanna followed the triage team as they rushed her critically injured husband through the corridors to sickbay. She didn't know how her legs could carry her after the horror she'd witnessed in the transporter room. The girl Nanishia, her throat savagely torn open, had died instantly from her injury. She never had a chance.

But Tom…

When the team reached sickbay, one of the medical assistants told B'Elanna to remain outside. She did as she was told and the doors slid together, closing her off completely from the only man she had ever truly loved.

Everything had happened much too quickly, and now that she was alone in the corridor, she felt isolated and her heart ached with every beat. Through a small view port in the doors, she could see the medical team working to save their captain, but was it already too late? He'd gone into shock so fast. She watched B-4 move with calm precision.

"Please save him," she murmured.

Solek walked up behind her. "The commodore is in good hands, Dr. Torres."

B'Elanna searched for truth in his eyes, and struggled to find words. "Solek, you weren't there…you didn't see…" she put a hand over her eyes to dispel the image, but it was blazoned into her memory. She would never forget. "It's bad, Solek, so bad." she said. Her heart raced in an effort to control her rising fear. "His—" her voice caught, and she drew a shuttering breath. "His arm was—completely ripped away, and he—"

Solek went up to the doors and peered fixedly through the glass. Having just arrived from the bridge, he apparently had not realized the extent of the commodore's injuries. His brows drew together and his jaw clenched tight. B'Elanna could have sworn she saw cold fury behind the Vulcan's eyes.

"B-4 will pull him through," Solek said, his voice was rough with emotion. He dropped his hand back down to his side and turned away. His head was bowed, as if he were coming to terms with what he'd just seen.

After a moment, he cleared his throat and straightened, clasping his hands behind his back. By the time he faced B'Elanna again, he had regained his usual Vulcan composure. "B-4 has seen crises like this," he offered as if nothing had happened. "He's young for a doctor, but his skills are exemplary."

B'Elanna could only stare at him. After working with Solek for months on Onari, only now did she realize he was not a true Vulcan. His emotional reaction made that perfectly clear, but he sure as hell had put up a good imitation until now. Why the charade? The question rose in her mind, but before she could ask it, he spoke.

"It may be a couple of hours until we hear the doctor's prognosis. Until then, may I suggest that you try to get some rest?"

"I can't do that," B'Elanna said, her throat tightening. "I have to stay by my husband."

"The meditation room is down the hall. The seating there is quite comfortable, and you won't be far from his side."

She nodded in acquiescence. She had been up for nearly two days without sleep, and she really should sit down before she collapsed outright on the deck.

Solek accompanied her to the small room. She paused at the door. "Have you found Crevlin?" Saying that vile man's name turned her stomach, but she had to know.

"He escaped Onari on a warp-driven ship, he has left the system."

"Do you now where he went?"

"We're tracking the warp trail, but they have thrown up a smokescreen, disrupting the trail with frequent plasma bursts. Desperate measures by desperate people," he said. "But this I promise you, Ambassador." There was a keen and determined look in his eyes. "I will find him. He will be brought to justice."

* * *

"B'Elanna."

The voice came out of the darkness, but she only imagined it.

"Wake up."

A hand gently shook her shoulder. She opened her eyes.

B-4 had joined her in the meditation room. He sat beside her and smiled in the benign way that only an android could, his eyes remained emotionless. "B'Elanna, you fell asleep."

She sat up, groggy at first. "I can't believe it, I—" Then she clutched his arm. "Is my husband alright?"

"We have stabilized Thomas' condition. I am quite sure now that he will recover."

"I have to see him," she said, and moved to get up.

B-4 reached out and took her hand, stopping her. "There are some things you must know before you go in there."

She slowly settled back down, not sure if she could take any more bad news. She clasped her hands in her lap, in an attempt to remain calm, and gazed at him attentively.

"We have stabilized him as I said, but the damage to his shoulder was severe— the joint was completely disintegrated. We could not save it."

A cold feeling swept over her, and she began to tremble. "What about…what about his arm?"

"We have it carefully preserved in stasis. We were able to save seventy-five percent of the humerus and the surrounding tissue, but to reattach the arm will mean several surgeries and an entire shoulder joint replacement. Of course, it will take approximately two to three days to regenerate some of the lost tissues. Add to that the time it will take to reconstruct the skeletal—"

B'Elanna moaned. The room started to spin, and she felt as if she might throw up. She turned away from him and put a hand to her stomach.

"Breathe, B'Elanna," B-4 said, patting her other hand, "It might be beneficial for you to put your head between your knees."

"Just—Just wait a minute, okay?" She took several deep breaths. "Oh, _god_."

"Really, there is no need to worry. I have experience with these kinds of procedures. I assure you, I can repair him."

She whirled on the doctor. "He's not a machine, B-4. He's a man! He's my husband!"

"I understand your trepidation, and I will review the procedures with you before we begin. And you will see. When we are done, he will be as right as rain." B-4 stood. "But now, I believe you would like to see him."

"You'd better _believe_ I would." She got up, a little shakily, and followed B-4 out into the corridor.

* * *

Tom was surrounded by monitors and other devices B'Elanna had never seen before. She sucked in her breath when she saw how lifeless he looked.

"Do not let appearances deceive you, B'Elanna," said B-4. "I assure you he is quite well."

She glared at the android. "You are out of your positronic mind! He most certainly is _not_ well!"

"The term 'well' is relative in this case," said B-4. "He is well in the sense that there is a clear and steady path to his recovery."

B'Elanna closed her eyes and drew in a steady breath. "Can I be alone with him for a minute?"

"Certainly. I need to place some calls to make sure the lab work is going smoothly. Again, you must not worry. We will have Thomas up and running in no time."

The doctor definitely needed to hone his interpersonal skills, but his confidence did make B'Elanna feel better.

She quietly walked over to the biobed where Tom lay. She had never seen him in such fragile condition, and it broke her heart. His face was pale, revealing in stark contrast the contusions and abrasions that marred his skin.

When she carefully leaned over and pressed her lips to his forehead, the warmth of his skin reassured her that he was still with her. The scent of the desert lingered in his hair, and overwhelming anger filled her heart when she imagined the terrible ordeal he had gone through.

The bulky padding of the bandage over his right side gave the false appearance of the shoulder they must rebuild. Out of impulse, she reached out to touch it, but she stopped, and her hands curled into fists.

Kahless! When she caught up with Crevlin, she would smash that bastard's sternum and rip the beating heart right out of his chest—and take such divine pleasure in it too!

She saw movement, someone coming toward her, and she let out a low growl.

A concession worker had entered sickbay and stood a few feet away with a trembling tray of food. "Dr. Torres, I brought some…uh…" seeing her angry glare, he stepped back. "I'll just leave it here?" His voice had gone up an octave in pitch, and his Adam's apple quavered. He eased the tray over and dropped it onto a standing cart. The tray clattered and spilled when it slipped from his nervous fingers.

"Get out." B'Elanna ordered, but he was already retreating through the door.

The commotion brought B-4 out of his office. "I apologize, B'Elanna. Perhaps I should have told you that I ordered your food."

"I'm _not_ hungry," she retorted.

He straightened the tray and placed the sandwich back on the plate. "Now, what do you suppose the commodore would do, if he awakened to find his wife on the biobed next to him, unconscious from starvation? He would never allow me to practice medicine on a starship again."

"I'll get to it when I'm good and ready."

This answer seemed to satisfy B-4. He gave her that emotionless android smile and returned to his office.

* * *

B'Elanna sat at Tom's bedside most of the night, her half eaten sandwich cast aside long ago. She watched the news from Onari on a small monitor she'd set up at the foot of the bed, the volume barely audible. She leaned forward to hear the reports, and rubbed her thumb over the back of Tom's good hand.

The news was all the same. More fighting. More threats. The violent cycle was endless. She heaved a heavy sigh.

"…can we watch something else?" said a quiet voice beside her.

Had she imagined his voice? B'Elanna grasped Tom's hand and looked at him. His eyes were opened a little. A lump formed in her throat. She hadn't expected to see those blue eyes again. "Tom…" she began, but didn't know what she should say. He looked so tired.

"You want to watch something else?" she asked, matching the tone of her voice to his.

A faint smile, barely perceptive, formed on his lips. "Buck Rogers…" he said in a whisper.

"Buck Rogers," she murmured. He would ask for that. Buck was one of his favorite old B-movie heroes, always saving the universe. She let out a gentle laugh, thankful that at least Tom's spirit hadn't been destroyed on that dreadful planet. He was still putting up a fight. She leaned over and kissed him softly. "Whatever you want, Flyboy," she said, and she moved to program his request into the small monitor.

"B'Elanna…" His hand twitched slightly in hers, and the smile vanished. "Don't go."

"Shh…I'm here. I'm not leaving you," she told him. "I'm never leaving you."

His eyes slowly closed, and she prayed he would sleep.


	10. Believe

Chapter 10 – Believe

_- California_ -

**M**iral gently lifted the curtains to one side and peeked out the front window. Under the long shadows of the redwood, she could see Joaquin out there, arms crossed over his chest, talking casually with one of the reporters.

She let the curtains fall back into place. So she'd given them what they wanted, a sound bite or two—a chance to show the entire Federation a grieving Miral, a worried Miral—and that was all she could do.

She knew she had responded to their questions, but she didn't remember her own words. She had distanced herself, and wouldn't have believed she was standing there under their bright lights and microphones if Joaquin hadn't been at her side supporting her the entire time.

When the interview was over, he'd led her back into the house and murmured into her ear, "You've done well, Ladybug." And he'd remained outside.

She felt exhausted. The emotional peaks and valleys she'd been through had taken their toll on her physical strength. She turned away from the window to go lie down, but she saw that there was another message on her machine. She wondered if she should turn it off, she could get messages all day from well-meaning friends and family, when all she really wanted was to be alone. She quickly went through the message list, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw that the new message was from her mother.

It was news. It had to be. Her heart raced as she played the message.

* * *

Joaquin waited as the last of the news vans backed out of the Paris' gravel drive. He'd watched them pack away every camera, and made sure that Miral wouldn't see another hov-cam near her home, at least not until she was ready.

When the last van disappeared around the bend in the road, he had to smile. Miral had shown them how strong she really was. She had changed a lot in the last four years since he'd been away. She wasn't a kid anymore. Even though she hadn't wanted to speak to reporters, she'd done the right thing, and he knew her parents would have been proud. He had to admit he was proud of her himself.

He turned and walked back up to the house.

Everything was quiet when he went in, almost too quiet. "Miral?" he said after a moment. "Where are you?"

"Over here." Her voice sounded muffled. "On the couch."

There, in what he had at first mistaken for a pile of pillows, lay Miral, curled up in an afghan the same color as the couch. He went over to her.

"I think I'll just die," she moaned.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the couch beside her. "I thought you did a great job with the reporters. I was talking to one of them. He said you gave them exactly what they wanted."

"Terrific. Wonderful. Bravo." she replied, not moving.

Joaquin detected a definite shift in her mood since she'd come in. She seemed to have spiraled down. He leaned over her to look at her face. He could see she hadn't been crying. She was well passed that now. "What's happened?"

"I got a message from my mother," she said with a sigh. "Over there on the machine." She flicked a finger toward the small comm by the door. "I can't take anymore."

"What did she say? Have they found your dad?"

"You can go listen to it yourself. I can't talk about it." She plucked up a fat blue pillow and put it over her head, shutting herself off from the world. "I'll just lie here until the universe comes to a quick and fiery end."

"That won't be for billions of years."

"I can wait."

* * *

Miral didn't say another word to him. She seemed to want to be alone, so Joaquin backed off. He did listen to the message though.

Dr. Torres was very tough, Joaquin remembered well. He could never get away with anything at their house when he was young. Getting trapped in one of her lectures on honor was punishment enough to make him want to behave himself.

She had that same toughness in her expression when she'd made the message for Miral, but he could see the strain she'd been under on Onari, and it hurt her to have to give her daughter such awful news. They hadn't found her father yet, she'd said, but they were close.

How long did it take for a message to get from Onari to Earth? Sometimes hours, sometimes days depending on the level of chatter on the subspace relays. He glanced back at Miral still curled up on the couch. She probably realized it too. By now, her dad must have been recovered—alive or dead, and she was just waiting to hear the news.

To lose someone like this—it was just too painful to contemplate. He thought of his stepmother Annika back home, and his sister Erin—his little sweetheart. If anything were to happen to them…

He looked at his watch. Chakotay had said he would be by in an hour or so, it would give Joaquin some time to come up with questions for Captain Kim on their voyage back to Aristarchus.

He quietly went over to the couch. Miral had fallen asleep. He tucked the covers up over her shoulder and pulled the pillow away. Her face was calm and peaceful and she drew long restful breaths.

Miral had proven her own brand of toughness today. Joaquin knew she could handle whatever life threw at her.

"Your universe won't end, Miral,"he said softly."You'll see."

* * *

Miral awakened to low voices. When she opened her eyes, she saw long orange shadows on the carpet. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Had she slept the day away? She looked back over the couch. Her eyes stung from the glare of the kitchen lights.

"Uncle Chakotay," she said, blinking and pushing her hair back from her face. "When did you get here?"

He was sitting at the breakfast bar talking with Joaquin. She got up from the couch to go to him and he met her halfway. He wrapped his arms around her, giving her a big bear hug.

"I've been here for a little while," he said releasing her. "Didn't want to wake you."

"You should have."

His face grew solemn. "We haven't heard anything new about your father," he said. "I wish…" but he stopped, and shook his head.

A wish seemed like such a fragile thing in light of all that had happened, but Miral knew what he wanted to say. "Is it true you're leaving tomorrow?" she asked. She wanted to break the awkward silence, but maybe that wasn't the best way to do it.

He returned a pained look and glanced over at Joaquin who shrugged a shoulder. "_I'm _leaving tomorrow," Chakotay said.

"But why? You only just got here."

"We're having some problems at the colony. I came here to resolve some of them, and now I have to go back."

"That's a simple answer. You're keeping something from me," she said, a bit put off. "Joaquin—he's been holding back too. I have my own problems right now, but I still have eyes…I can see it in both of you. Something bad is happening on Aristarchus. I may have been a child the last time you were here, but I'm not anymore. I'm practically eighteen now. I don't need to be babied. I can handle the truth."

Joaquin, who had been leaning on the bar, pushed back and gave Chakotay a shrewd look. "Told you," he said. "Can't hide anything from this one."

Chakotay returned a slight smile. "I know." He took her hand and rubbed a thumb over the back of it. "You are grown up, Miral. The years go by so fast, and sometimes I have to be reminded of these things. But in light of the circumstances, I think it's best we wait until we hear news of your father before I worry you about something else you can't control. I think he would agree with me."

She looked at Joaquin. He seemed a little disappointed too, but she resolved that when she got him alone, she could wheedle it out of him one way or another. "Alright," she said, "If you really think so—"

The kitchen comm bleeped and Miral straightened.

It was by Joaquin's elbow, and he checked the caller i.d. "It's the admiral." He looked up at them. "She said she'd call if she heard anything."

Miral walked around the counter and stood in front of the comm unit for a second. This was the news she'd waited for…

She punched the button. "Admiral?"

"Miral," Kathryn Janeway said. "Are you sitting down?"

Miral looked back at Chakotay, and he started to smile. He seemed to sense good news. Miral's heart raced, and she felt lightheaded. "No, Ma'am. I—I'm standing…"

"I just got the news—they've found your father!"

Miral blindly reached a hand out and felt Joaquin clasp it in his. She couldn't breathe. She felt her knees go weak.

"Miral?" said the admiral.

"She heard you, Kathryn," Chakotay said. He was bringing a chair around for Miral to collapse into. "When did they find him?"

"A couple of hours ago," she replied. "He's back aboard Venture."

Miral eased into the chair and Joaquin still held onto her hand as if he would never let go. "Is he alright, Admiral?"

"I spoke with Fleet Command. Chakotay can tell you, getting any straightforward information from them is…well, tricky to say the least. They tell me that he has suffered some injuries, but they didn't have the details yet." Janeway paused, "Your mother is with him and they have the best doctor in the fleet on that ship."

"But Admiral—"

"He's alive Miral!" said Janeway. "That's what you need to focus on. Your father is alive and he's safe!"

Miral looked up at Joaquin. He squeezed her hand and smiled.

"Everything will be all right," he said.

At that moment she believed him.

* * *

- _USS Venture_ -

Everything will be all right. That's what she'd told him when he was able to stay awake for more than a few minutes. B'Elanna was at Tom's side when B-4 explained what had happened to him and in short what they needed to do to restore his shoulder and reattach his arm.

Tom, still drowsy from the medications and barely able to move, didn't seem to care about that. His memory was still vague and he asked again about Nanishia. B'Elanna steeled herself and told him again as best she could that Nanishia had died. There was nothing they could do for her.

The first time B'Elanna gave him the news, Tom had simply nodded and closed his eyes, but this time, he asked to see her.

"Tom," B'Elanna said, not knowing how to put it. "Her body was sent back to Onari. Her government wanted her back immediately. I'm sorry."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "Oh, god, B'Elanna…" he said, his words were broken in his anguish.

B'Elanna clasped his hand tightly between hers. His pain pulled at her heart and she wanted to ease it, but only time could do that.

"Everything will be all right," she murmured, but she found it very hard to believe.


	11. Driving Lessons

_- San Francisco -_

"Now that's the best news I believe I've ever heard," Chakotay said after the talk with Janeway. He looked confident.

Miral wished she could feel the same. She could only imagine the worst for her dad not knowing his condition, and it frustrated her not being there to support her mother the way she felt she should.

"Do you think he'll be all right?" she said, looking to Chakotay for reassurance. If he thought so, she would do her best to believe it too.

He put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Your father is in the best possible position now. He's on his own ship, with his own doctor, and most importantly, your mother is with him, and I know for a fact that she won't let anything stand in the way of his recovery."

"Chakotay's right, Miral," Joaquin said. "Didn't I tell you your dad's a fighter? You still believe that don't you?"

She let out a breath and nodded.

He released her hand as if to let her know she was strong enough to stand on her own. "That's my girl," he said softly.

Miral perked up a little. Funny that Joaquin would use that expression; she could almost hear the echo of her father's voice saying those very same words, and suddenly her heart felt lighter.

"I think we need to celebrate," he said. "What do _you_ think, Chakotay?"

"Celebrate?" Miral echoed.

"Sure," said Joaquin. "Come with us tonight. You haven't had any dinner. You slept through lunch. Aren't you hungry at all?"

"Yeah," she said slowly, only just now realizing how hungry she really was. "Should I?"

"I insist," Chakotay said. "I'm sure Captain Kim would be happy to see you."

Miral smiled and felt tears well up. "I'd love to go."

* * *

Miral needed to get out and about after all the stress she'd been under the past two days, and she was really looking forward to it. As she got dressed to go, she tried her best to be optimistic. Janeway had assured Miral over the comm. that her father was safe, but what did the admiral really know? Miral wouldn't forget that it was Janeway who'd badgered her mother to return to Onari in the first place, and maybe the admiral's conscience had received a booster shot when she got the news that Commodore Paris was still alive.

But if the admiral thought that all Miral needed was reassurances, then she didn't understand the depth of the young cadet's devotion to her family. Maybe it was a Klingon thing, and someone like Janeway simply couldn't understand. Even after Chakotay's positive support, Miral couldn't completely let go of her worries. Not knowing the full details of her father's condition, and not hearing news directly from her mother, kept her doubts very much alive.

Miral checked her appearance in the full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door. She wanted to look attractive tonight. Some of her friends might be at the pier, and it wouldn't help her mood at all if they told her she looked drawn and tired—like she were in mourning or something. So, she'd decided to wear something fun, with a little color, and this dress was the perfect one, a simple peach colored spaghetti strap, not too sassy. The hemline fell about mid thigh, appropriate for a night at the pier. This was her favorite dress, and having no use for it while at the academy, she was glad left it at her parent's house for safekeeping. She finished off the outfit with a demure pair of crème colored pumps.

Overall she was satisfied with how she looked. With a little bit of brushing, she had actually gotten her auburn hair smooth and soft again, surprised it would behave after she'd neglected it for so long. The dark circles under her eyes had miraculously faded, and her eyes weren't so puffy anymore. Most important though, her forehead wasn't blotchy, and the ridges however slight, weren't near as obvious as they had been.

She set down her hairbrush, and inadvertently knocked a framed photo from her dresser. "Oh!" she said in dismay, and she knelt down to pick it up. This was the photo she'd always treasured, and now the glass in it was cracked. She slipped the picture carefully out of the frame to examine it. Not a scratch, thank goodness.

The photo was ridiculous, but she loved it anyway. In the picture she wore pigtails that were so short they stuck straight out like tiny radar antennae. She and the swing were in full forward motion, and there was Dad behind her, his arm slightly blurred from giving her the big push. They both looked so happy. She brushed a finger over the image. "How can I not worry?" she murmured, so no one could hear. "You're the only dad I've got." She tucked the photo into her jacket pocket, and patted it for safekeeping.

There was a quiet rap on her bedroom door. "Miral, you about ready?" said Joaquin. "We need to leave soon."

"Be out in a minute."

She dabbed on some lipstick, and satisfied, she grabbed her purse and stepped out.

Chakotay had already gone, having to meet the admiral beforehand, and Joaquin stood alone at the end of the hall. He was checking his watch when she came out of the bedroom, and he glanced up when he heard her shut the door. She imagined he was about to say something derisive about the time she took to get ready, but he didn't say a word. He just stared at her unblinking.

She looked down at her dress, was there a spot on it somewhere? Finding nothing amiss, she looked up. "What?"

"You said you just had to put on your shoes."

"I did."

"That dress…" he said.

She turned a little to model it for him. "Is it too much?"

"It's not enough."

She smiled and curved her arm into his. "Let's go. We don't want to be late." She guided him out the front door.

* * *

Outside, the twinkling fireflies were the only lights they could see. The yellow hotrod Joaquin had parked in the drive sat cold and still, but Miral knew that before the night was over she would find out how fast it could go.

"How far is Pier 39 from here?" he said as he pressed the button on his key ring. The car emitted a chirp and flashed its lights, showing off its sleek yellow chassis.

Yes, she would definitely find out how fast it could go. "About fifty-five k, but I know a quick route. Could get us there faster."

Still arm in arm, he crossed to the passenger side of the car, now guiding _her_. "Uh huh, and don't tell me, you'll do the driving, right?"

"Yep," she said and put on her best smile.

"Nope," he said, with a shake of his head. "I want to get there in one piece." He opened the door, and she reluctantly slid into the passenger seat.

"I'm a good driver," she complained as soon as he opened his door. "Only gotten two tickets in my entire life!"

"And you've been driving for _how_ long?"

She caught his easy smile when he turned to back out. He was teasing her like he used to all those years ago, and it made her feel good again.

"Still, I _am_ a good driver," she said. "But at this rate, you'll never know just how good I am."

He tried to stifle a low snigger, and she ignored the offense. She knew it was true and that was all she cared about.

As they backed out, she saw the headlights glimmer in the windows of her home. When the car turned out onto the main road, her house disappeared into the black of the woods. She suddenly felt an ominous chill come over her, as if she might never see that house again. _Get a grip, Miral, _she thought. _Soon we'll all be home together and be a family again._

* * *

They rode in silence for the first leg of the journey. Miral had so much on her mind that she'd gotten lost in her thoughts, but she heard Joaquin chuckle, bringing her out of her musings. When she looked over at him, she noticed a sly smile played on his lips.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing."

But his smile was too big to ignore. It piqued her interest. "Tell me," she insisted.

"Oh, I just had a flashback to that summer we all went to the Space Flight Expo in Houston, and you tried to pilot that shuttle they had on display."

"Joaquin!" Her mouth dropped open. What on earth made him think of _that_?

"You thought you could do anything." He laughed. "I can see it, now. You, a tiny girl in pigtails climbing up into that big pilot seat. That little face all scrunched up in concentration…you were so determined to make it fly, and you could barely reach the control panels."

"That was entirely your fault!" she said, crossing her arms in front of her. "You challenged me."

"How was I to know you'd really do it?" he said. "You were lucky nobody was hurt."

"It only lifted off a few centimeters."

"But you still managed to knock over an information booth and smash the Admiral's lectern."

She sucked in her breath. "Don't remind me! I never saw my grandpa look so mad! He had to apologize to all those people…" but she smiled at the memory. "He was proud of me, though. I know, because after it was all over, he bought me an ice cream."

"You never told me that."

"I think he wanted to encourage my…ingenuity."

Joaquin chuckled. "More like impetuosity, if you ask me."

She let that one go. Bringing up her grandpa made her a little sad again. "I miss him. Some people misunderstood him, he was strict, but he was a good grandpa." She sighed. He'd been gone for a few years now, but it still hurt to think about him. "It was really hard on my dad when he died…they'd lost so many years, and they'd only just begun to piece their relationship back together." She stared out the window at the ocean going by. "I don't know what I'd do if anything like that ever happened between me and my dad. Even when I'm old, I'll still want to be his little girl."

"You will be." Joaquin assured her.

They were speeding along the coast now and the moonlight danced on the sparkling waves. A few quiet islands coasted past, black against the deep indigo water. They looked like dark and lonely places, and that image drew out another sigh.

"Tell you what," he said, "We're making good time. Why don't you take the wheel—just for a little bit?"

She perked up. "You're serious?"

"Why not? You deserve to have a little fun." He gave her a stern look. "Just a _little_ fun now, no crazy stuff."

"Got it," she clapped her hands together, "This is going to be so much fun!"

"Why do I get the feeling I'm going to regret this?"

* * *

They'd parked on a scenic pullover, great for tourists and it had an excellent view of the ocean, but Miral wasn't happy. She didn't have the patience to submit to a complete driving lesson.

"Now, this panel controls the forward thrust." Joaquin said, he pointed at the gauges. "These indicate the kph, and this—"

Miral rolled her eyes and huffed. "You still think I'm fourteen, don't you?"

"I'm just trying to show you the finer points of this vehicle."

"I can drive this hotrod it right now, with one hand behind my back and without any other lessons." She revved the engine.

"Now hold on—"

"Buckle up now, because you're in for the ride of your life!" The back tires spun out with a long screech.

"For God's sake, Miral!" Joaquin exclaimed and made a grab for his seatbelt. "Use both hands!"


	12. Battlefield

_- USS Venture –_

B-4 administered a hypo and let the anesthesia gradually seep into Tom's bloodstream. B'Elanna held her breath as she watched, wanting to be fully aware of the android's every move. She was about to be separated again from her husband, but this time, it would be in the hopes that he would come back to her whole and well on the way to recovery.

She squeezed Tom's hand. "I'll be right here when you wake up," she said trying to sound cheerful.

Tom gave a slight nod, but he didn't open his eyes, the anesthesia was already working.

"B'Elanna," B-4 said. "He will not awaken for several days."

"I know," she replied not looking up.

"You will need to rest, and get plenty to eat. You must take care of yourself so you can help him in the recovery phase. That's when he will need you the most."

"I'll be ready," she said, but she wanted to remain with Tom until the anesthesia took hold, and he was no longer aware of her presence. She told him she would never leave him, and she didn't intend to break her word. "Can I have a moment alone with him?"

"Certainly," B-4 replied, "but we must move him to the isolation unit soon. I do not wish to delay the surgical preparations."

"I understand."

Then B-4 moved away. B'Elanna was grateful that the android seemed to understand her need to be alone. She gently laid Tom's hand down at his side, and she kissed his quiet lips. "I love you," she said. It tore at her heart when she received no response. He was so still that she thought he might never awaken. "Come back to me, Tom," she murmured, "so we can make things right again."

* * *

Later, when the pre-op stage of Tom's treatment was underway, she returned to the captain's quarters. Tom had only recently been promoted to Commodore, not three weeks before the incident on Onari and still held command of Venture. He had told her of plans for Solek to be promoted as captain. The commander's years of exemplary service made the promotion inevitable, but it was a transition Tom had not wanted for himself. Venture was his life. Now, B'Elanna wondered if the promotion would go on as planned and her husband would lose Venture at the very time he needed her most.

Entering the quarters, B'Elanna didn't try to sleep, instead, she went directly to a storage cabinet and pulled out a polished wooden case. She laid it on the bed and opened it carefully. Inside, wrapped in a velvet cloth was a d'k tagh, a weapon she kept as a symbol of Klingon honor. Though it had never been used to shed blood, it would be easy to turn this knife into an instrument of vengeance. She lifted it out and unwrapped the cloth. Polished to a bright sheen, it glinted even in the low light. She felt its weight in her palm, not too heavy, and well balanced. To be an effective weapon though, the victim would have to be at close range, but that thought didn't frighten her. She wanted to see Crevlin's eyes when he felt the cold blade slice through his flesh. Revenge would be so satisfying. She ran her finger along the sharpened edge, felt the steel break her skin. A dark crimson bead slid down the length of the blade.

Beautiful.

It would do very well.

Suddenly, she became aware of the blood that flowed down her finger and to her palm. What was she thinking? She had been striving so hard for peace on the Onari world, and now all she wanted was revenge. She found a cloth and wrapped her bloody finger, then she replaced the d'k tagh in its case.

What she needed was to focus on was her family. Keep them together. That's all that really mattered. She walked over to the small storage unit and almost put the weapon away.

But if by chance she had the opportunity to exact revenge...she wouldn't want to let it slip by...

The nightstand would be the best place to keep it for now...just in case. That's where she put it, and she crawled on top of the bed.

She stared at the wooden case until her eyes grew heavy. Maybe she could try to sleep, get a fresh start in the morning, and learn all she could about the search for Crevlin tomorrow. It would keep her mind busy and hopefully off of her worries over Tom. There was nothing more she could do for him at this point, and worrying over him would only make matters worse.

But there was no way in hell she could stop herself from worrying.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply in an attempt to find some measure of peace. A pleasant memory of a quiet afternoon long ago crept into her mind. She heard her husband's voice and it eased her into sleep.

* * *

"_C'mon, Miral. That's it," Tom said. "You can climb all the way to the top."_

"_By myse'f, Daddy," the three-year-old said. "Look, Mommy. I do it by myse'f!" _

"_Tom, please hold on to her." B'Elanna said as she looked down at them from the top of the hill. "It's too steep."_

"_I've got her, B'Elanna," he said. "I'm right behind her, see? She's my trooper. You're a good climber, aren't you Miral?"_

"_Yep, Daddy. I good."_

_Miral climbed up and stuck out a pudgy arm. "He'p me, Mommy."_

_B'Elanna smiled and pulled Miral up into her arms. "You are a big girl." _

_Miral pushed a finger in her mouth and laid her head on B'Elanna's shoulder. _

"_She's tired."_

"_It's been a long day," Tom said when he reached the top. "Look at this view. You can almost see the entire battlefield from here."_

_B'Elanna did think it was beautiful, and the irony struck her that at least one point in time, this field was grisly place to spend an afternoon. "Funny how Terrans think Klingon history is so gruesome, when hundreds of Terrans died right here fighting for an ideal they thought was so important."_

"_What else would you fight for, B'Elanna? If not for an ideal?"_

_She smiled and lightly patted Miral's back. "My family of course."_

"_That's what most men were fighting for all those years ago on this very spot," Tom said, "but the ideals are all we remember now."_

_Miral's head popped up and she pointed at the sky with a wet finger. "Whas 'at Mommy?"_

_The sky had turned an angry red, black clouds billowed across. B'Elanna clutched her daughter closely. "Storm? We'd better go back." She turned, but Tom wasn't there. Miral squirmed to get down, but B'Elanna clutched her daughter even tighter. _

_Nothing was as it had been. The grass had withered and died, it crackled under her footsteps. "Tom?" The wind picked up, hot and dry...her throat was dry too. _

_And she heard the faint sounds of battle, but it wasn't cannon or musket, the barbarous weapons people once used on this battlefield...it was the clash of blade against blade. _

"_Tom!" she ran toward the sound, and Miral began to whimper. _

_She came to an open area where Tom stood, dressed in full Klingon battle armor, facing a fierce-looking Klingon warrior._

_Her blood ran cold, the warrior wasn't Klingon. He was a vicious snake, and she could see his serpentine scales growing up his flesh. It was Crevlin._

_She put Miral down, and reached for the d'k tagh she'd been saving for this very moment. She stepped closer, and Tom shot a look back. She saw concern in his eyes, but also the pain and torment of a battle he'd waged for a long time. "B'Elanna, go back," he said. "It's not your fight."_

"_It _is_ my fight!" she exclaimed. "Let me help you!"_

_But Crevlin lunged and their blades clashed again._

_A high-pitched scream pierced the air, and B'Elanna saw little Miral standing alone. She ran back and scooped her up again. When B'Elanna looked back, Tom lay on the ground not moving. She tried to go to him, but a hand gripped her shoulder and spun her around._

_Crevlin smiled at her through blood stained teeth._ _"I'm not through yet," he said, and he raised the bat'leth in a motion to swing at her._

_She had no time to reach for her weapon. She was powerless. B'Elanna curved her body protectively over her child, and she heard the blade hiss through the air. _

* * *

B'Elanna awoke. She sat up in the bed and her heart pounded. "Miral." She felt an overwhelming fear for her daughter's safety. _Crazy, _she thought. _Miral is lightyears away. Safe. _

She climbed off the bed and sat in front of the com unit, clicking it on. "Comm Officer."

"Sanchez here."

"I need a priority channel. I must get a message Earthside...and I want realtime."

"That'll take some doing..."

"Then do it," B'Elanna shot back.

The officer didn't hesitate. "Yes ma'am. I'll contact you when I make the connection."

The comm clicked off. B'Elanna ran a hand through her hair. She should have spoken to Miral earlier. Her daughter had a propensity for making rash decisions. She didn't know what Miral might do if faced with uncertainties about her family and her own stability. B'Elanna knew she must speak to her daughter personally—now—before her choices led her down a dangerous path. She hoped it wasn't already too late.


	13. Flash Point

_- San Francisco –_

"Well, how was my driving?" Miral asked lightly, not trying to conceal the excitement she felt inside. Driving at top speed had left her breathless, and her heart raced. She didn't want to let go of the moment.

"If I could classify what you did as _driving_—" Joaquin retorted.

She'd pulled in to a lot by a dark and empty beach, after just barely escaping a speed trap. With luck and a little skill, she'd lost the patrol car that had tailed them. She'd assumed Joaquin would be as pleased as she was. She turned to face him. Even in the dark, she could see he was angry. His mouth was drawn in a tight frown and he didn't look at her.

She clasped her hands together in her lap in an attempt to look innocent. "Sorry about that last turn," she said, though she wasn't. She had the right to brag. "Maybe I should have warned you...but you saw how I was still in control of this car even with just two wheels hugging the road."

He glared at her. "You don't know when to quit. What if that patrol had caught us?"

She dismissed the idea with a flip of her hand. "They couldn't touch us," she said with a devilish smile. "Don't play tough with me. I know you liked the way I handled this machine. I could tell. You're just too afraid to admit it."

"No. I'll be the first to admit it," he said. "I _was_ impressed. You're an incredible driver. You were in control the entire time, and that amazed me."

"I knew it!" she said, scoring a point.

"I let you drive because I wanted you to feel better, but let's get this one thing clear. I can't get into trouble for you. I'm going back home tomorrow, and your reckless attitude behind the wheel is either going to kill me or land me in jail."

"What?" she said, astonished at his harsh appraisal. "You know very well that wouldn't happen!"

"I can't take that chance." He opened his hand. "Now, give me the keys."

Cheeks burning with indignation, she pulled the keys from the ignition. She glanced at his open palm and then clutched them tightly in her fist. "First things first," she said. "Tell me what's happening on Aristarchus, and why you're so set on leaving tomorrow."

"Come on, Miral. We have to go." He reached for the keys.

She slipped them down the front of her dress. "Well," she said throwing up her hands. "Guess you can't get them now."

"Think that's going to stop me?" There was a dangerous glint in his eye.

"Yes!" she squeaked and shrank back when he made a lunge for it.

He grabbed her arms, pinning her to the seat. "See? You're game's no good, Miral," he said, "I can do whatever I want."

She didn't try to move, instead she stared into his deep brown eyes. "You can," she said. The very idea sent an unexpected thrill of anticipation through her body. "I won't give you the keys," she teased. "So, what are you going to do about it?"

He said nothing, but instead he traced his hand slowly up her arm sending goosebumps over her flesh. She released a pleasured sigh and slipped her free hand under his shirt and around his waist drawing him closer.

"God, Miral." He moaned, and his voice was rough. "You're a tease."

"No, I'm not," she said closing her eyes and tilting her chin up just a little, and his lips came down gently on hers. Her skin tingled with desire and she delighted in his soft caress.

He drew his hand across her shoulder and down letting it rest over her heart. "What you're doing to me..." he murmured. He pulled back.

"Don't stop." She whispered, and she lifted her head slightly and kissed him again.

Suddenly, his weight was off her. "We can't do this," he said, slumping back into the passenger seat.

"Why not?"

"I can't be with you once and then never see you again. It's wrong. I'm supposed to take care of you, not take advantage of you," he said, anger now edged his voice. "Now give me the damned keys!"

Incensed, Miral straightened. "I don't need a babysitter, Joaquin. Besides, _I_ was the one taking advantage. You couldn't even think straight." She folded her arms in front of her in defiance. "Well then, just tell me what I want to know." Then she huffed._ "Please_."

"I don't believe this," he said wryly. The corner of his mouth twitched. "You've tied me in knots, Miral. I have to leave Earth just to get away from you."

Her heart fell. "You don't mean that."

He only shook his head, then putting an arm on the back of the seat, he leaned in. "You want to know the truth? Here it is in a nutshell. The Federation has forgotten about Aristarchus and the people in that colony. They've abandoned us. We have no defense against off-worlders coming in and taking what they want because Starfleet has pulled out the only starship we had. We're alone, and vulnerable and that's why my father and I came here, to convince them that they've made a grave mistake and to make them fix it."

"Why do you want to go back? Why doesn't everyone just come back home and live here where it's safe?"

"Aristarchus _is_ home. It's a lot like Earth once was...before cities, before people took over everything. If you ever went there, you would understand."

"Like that'll ever happen," she said. She fished for the keys and pulled them out letting them dangle between two fingers. "Thanks anyway for letting me drive."

He took them. "Anytime." He said, opening the door to switch sides. Miral had just started to scoot over to the passenger seat when he paused. "I can't believe I just said that."

"Oohh! Get out!" Miral said shoving him.

* * *

When they'd arrived in front of Dante's restaurant on the Pier, Joaquin went in to reserve a table and to find out if anyone in their party had arrived. Miral stayed outside where the breeze was cool. She stood by the railing, and watched the sea lions that had gathered on the small wooden boat docks in the water below.

A baby was going from one adult to another looking for a place to perch receiving only rebukes for his efforts. When a large male nipped the cub, Miral shouted, "Let him stay you big brute!"

"You shouldn't yell at endangered animals."

Miral looked up and uttered a gasp of surprise. "Bishop."

Cdt. Tad Bishop wore a confident smile. Even dressed in casual clothes, he looked like Starfleet, straight and perfect with an air of confidence he could never shake off. He looked over his shoulder at the group of friends who were waiting for him on the boardwalk. "I'll catch up with you guys in a few minutes."

"Don't be too long, Tad," said one of the girls, "Can't party without you." Her eyes flitted to Miral giving her a cursory look of distain. Then to the others, she said, "He won't be long. Let's go." There were giggles from the other two girls in the group, and they trooped down the boardwalk.

Miral rolled her eyes. "Lovely friends."

Bishop waved a hand in dismissal. "Ignore them. That's what I do."

She leaned back against the railing.

He gazed at her for a moment, and said, "I'm sorry about your dad."

"He's coming home soon," she responded without hesitation, hoping that saying it would somehow make it true.

"How? I thought he was—"

"His own crew on Venture rescued him," she said in a hurry. "Everything's okay now. Isn't it wonderful?"

"Wow. That _is_ great! Doesn't surprise me though, you know why? We go in and get the job done. That's the way we are in Starfleet. What I wouldn't give to be on that ship right now. They're right in the thick of it over there. Wouldn't be surprised if there are a few more skirmishes before it's all over."

"You don't really think so, do you?" Miral said, suddenly anxious. "I want my parents to be able to come home."

"Starfleet can handle any crisis. They'll be home before you know it."

"Yeah," she said, "I know." A knot grew in her stomach. She'd been able to put off thinking about her parents until now.

"I thought a lot about you after I heard." He cocked his head a little to look into her cast down eyes. "Did you get my flowers?"

She brought her gaze up and smiled. "They were beautiful. They made me feel better."

"That's what they were for." He held out his hand. "Walk with me. Let's get out of this crowd." He winked. "Go someplace where we can _really _talk."

He grinned at her in the same cocky way as he had the day he hacked into her exam. He was playing at the game he loved to play, trying to manipulate her, and she realized he might want to do more than just converse with her once he got her alone.

She looked back toward the restaurant doors and didn't see Joaquin. He should have been back by now. "I'm sorry Tad, I'm waiting for someone. I can't leave."

"You didn't say no," he said. "Come on. I promise you'll have a great time."

"I really can't."

"I can't believe you're rejecting me." He took her hand and held it, rubbing his thumb over the back. "I can't imagine the kind of guy who would leave you waiting here by yourself. If you want to give that cad another chance, I guess I can't stop you. If he doesn't show up, come and find me. I'll be around."

"Yeah," she said with a stiff smile. "I'll do that."

* * *

Joaquin never came back. When Miral finally ventured into Dante's she found him sitting down at a table with Captain Kim. They already had drinks. What in the world had come over him? Didn't he realize she had been waiting for him?

She walked up to the table. "Good evening Captain," she said, blatantly ignoring the extremely rude Joaquin.

"Miral," said the captain. "It's so good to see you again. How long has it been?"

"Too long, Sir," she said with a furtive look in Joaquin's direction. "It seems like forever. How's Corrine?" She really was interested. His wife was fifteen years his junior, and had always gotten on well with Miral.

"She's well, back on Mars base working on her thesis." he said. He pulled out a chair, "Sit down and join us."

"I'd be happy to."

When the appetizers came Miral found she had no desire to eat. Joaquin for some mysterious reason had largely ignored her. He seemed to go out of his way to edge her out of the conversation. At least the Captain spoke to her now and again. She longed for Uncle Chakotay to arrive so she could have a chance at decent conversation.

"I wonder what's taking them so long?"

"They'll be here, don't worry," Joaquin said in what Miral perceived to be a placating tone. He went back to talking to Captain Kim about their Aristarchus business and she listened for a while, but whenever she tried to insert her opinion or a question, Joaquin immediately diverted the conversation. Miral sulked, and Captain Kim gave her a wink. She smiled and shrugged. The captain could see how rude Joaquin behaved, too.

She took a sip from her iced tea and saw Chakotay and the Admiral through the window. They were walking toward the restaurant. She scooted back from the table. "They're here. I'll go show them where we are."

She didn't wait for a response, and quickly made her way around the crowded tables toward the front doors. She pushed open the door and walked across the boardwalk to meet them. "Uncle! Where have you been? I was worried. We already have a table."

Janeway glanced up at Chakotay.

"Go on in Kathryn. I'll speak with Miral."

The admiral nodded. "Of course." she said, and her eyes showed concern.

Miral heaved a heavy sigh and put a hand over her eyes. If Miral had to see the admiral's sympathetic look one more time she would scream. She knew that the bottom was dropping out of her life again, and why in hell did the adults around her make everything so damned difficult and secretive?

She placed her hands on her hips, and when the admiral was out of earshot, Miral looked up. "It's about my dad isn't it?" she demanded, more curtly than she wanted, but she was tired of the runaround. "Tell me straight out, Uncle Chakotay."

* * *

Captain Kim stood when Admiral Janeway arrived at the table.

"Harry," she said with a warm smile. "How are you?"

"I'm well, Admiral. Thank you." He pulled out a chair for her.

After she sat down Joaquin asked, "Isn't Chakotay coming in?"

"He's outside with Miral," she said, her tone and manner indicated bad news. "We've heard from Venture," Janeway said. "Captain Paris' injuries were worse than we'd been lead to believe. He suffered a direct hit in the with a plasma blast."

Captain Kim's face went ashen. "Will he be alright?"

"I don't know. I'm getting the news piece by piece," she said. "His condition is grave, Harry. His arm was completely severed."

Joaquin pushed back from the table and stood up to leave.

"Wait," Janeway said and put a hand on his arm.

"I have to go to her."

"Give your father a chance to break the news."

Joaquin hesitated but his desire to be with Miral won out. He worked his way around the tables and made it outside. He didn't see them anywhere. He felt terrible. He'd been rude to her just because he'd seen her holding hands with that—that _prick_—whoever he was it didn't matter anymore. Now all he wanted to do was hold her and not let any more pain come to her.

He stepped out onto the boardwalk and looked in both directions, and there they were. Miral stood apart from Chakotay and though he couldn't understand what she was saying, Joaquin could hear the agitation in her voice and her gestures were sharp.

Miral saw him approach and turned to him. "Please, Joaquin," she pleaded. "Please convince him to let me go with you tomorrow. Onari is in the same sector. If I went with you, I could get to my parents."

Chakotay gave him a 'stay out of this' look and Joaquin reluctantly kept silent. His father then spoke to Miral. "I've already told you, the Federation has placed restrictions on travel to and from that sector. You will not be allowed on any ship."

"Admiral Janeway can get me a pass."

"No."

"She should!" Miral stiffened and trembled with agitation. "She's the cause of all this! This never would have happened to them if she hadn't sent my mother back to that awful sytem!"

"Miral," Joaquin said. "You can't blame the admiral for this."

"And why not?" she retorted. "My mother wanted out. She wanted to spend time with her family. She needs me! She's all alone and my father could be dead for all we know and nobody here gives a damn about it! Nobody!" She was breathing hard and her chin started to quiver. She leveled a lethal glare at Chakotay. "If you care at all about me or my family, you'll get me on that ship!"

There was pain in Chakotay's eyes. He struggled to contain his emotions, but when he spoke his voice was even. "I'm a civilian. I've got no pull with the Federation in this matter. And more to the point, that sector is volatile—much too dangerous for you. Even if I had the ability to get you a pass I wouldn't do it because it would put you in harm's way. How could I call myself Tom and B'Elanna's friend and be so blatantly irresponsible with their daughter's life?"

Still defiant, Miral lifted her chin. "Then I'll go back in there and demand one from _her_." Her bitter contempt for the admiral came through in the clipped manner of her words. "Janeway would do it wouldn't she? She'd do anything to assuage her own guilt." She turned and took two determined strides toward the restaurant but Joaquin caught her.

"Don't be so hard-headed, Miral. Chakotay wouldn't lie to you about this! You're acting like a child—selfish and unrealistic."

"Let go of me," she said in a low threatening voice.

His grip on her arm didn't falter. "If you go in there—I swear to you—you'll be making the biggest mistake of your life."

She glared at him, and her brows lowered. "Go back to Aristarchus where you belong," she said, jerking her arm out of his grasp. "I don't need you anymore. Either of you!" She turned and fled down the boardwalk.

"Miral stop!" Joaquin rushed after her, but when he stepped out into the main boardwalk, a speeding skateboarder rammed into him, sending him sprawling onto the deck. He quickly got back onto his feet, clutching a sore elbow.

"Sorry man, didn't see you," the skateboarder said, retrieving his lost skateboard.

Ignoring the idiot, Joaquin took a few more steps, but Miral was gone.


	14. The Longest Days

_- U.S.S. Venture -_

B'Elanna tried in vain to reach her daughter. Twice, when she was able to make a real-time link, Miral had not been home. Anxious now for any contact, B'Elanna left a series of messages in the hopes that she would reach her daughter and Miral would respond.

Her nightmare last night had left B'Elanna with an ominous feeling that Miral was in danger. She tried to push the thought away and disregard it as nonsense. Logically, she knew that dreams had no connection to the physical world and she could never understand why anyone would believe in such nonsense.

But she understood her daughter all too well. Miral was inclined to make rash decisions even on her good days. When provoked, she was hotheaded and determined, traits that she, for better or worse, had inherited from both of her parents. What Miral might do now when faced with an uncertain future, her mother could only guess.

Surely she wouldn't try to come here with so many hostiles and unknown dangers in this system. She's too bright a girl for that.

Another attempt to call her right now would do no good. B'Elanna turned off the comm. Maybe Miral was staying with friends, and she would respond as soon as she got the messages. That was another viable possibility, one that B'Elanna wanted desperately to believe.

She stood and stepped away from the console stretching her aching back. Without Tom, these quarters felt more like a prison cell than a restful place. She would go stir crazy if she didn't do something. Besides, what kind of example was she setting for the rest of the crew if she kept herself locked away? They all had to keep pushing to find Crevlin and his band of murderers before they harmed anyone else.

It was 4 am; she needed something to get help her going on the long day ahead. "Coffee," she said to herself. "That's what I need." She would get an early morning cup in the mess hall, then go speak to Solek. The commander would update her on the search for Crevlin and that would at least be progress.

* * *

When B'Elanna entered the officer's mess, she found only a handful of crewmen taking an early breakfast. Several looked up from their quiet conversations when she walked in. After receiving a few nods and small acknowledgements, she went about the business of getting that much needed cup of coffee.

The place was quieter than normal. The crew was in a subdued, almost melancholy state. They held Commodore Paris in high regard, most having served with him since he'd taken command of Venture, and after his horrific ordeal on Onari, fears for his well-being and unanswered questions about the leadership of Venture left the crew in an uncertain state of flux.

Crevlin had dealt them all a terrible blow, but B'Elanna did not want him to rob the crew of their morale as well. She wanted her presence on the ship to be a reassuring one. She would present herself with a dignified bearing and prove that if she could continue on in the face of adversity and make the best of things then they could too.

She took her steaming coffee from the replicator and searched for a table. She'd brought a PADD along with her to compose the many messages she needed to send. With her rapid departure the previous day, she would have loose ends to tie with the embassy and the many people and committees she'd worked with on Onari. It would serve to keep her mind busy and keep her from dwelling too heavily on Tom's ongoing surgery.

When she scanned the mess hall for a good area to work, she found , the engineer whom B'Elanna had met in the transporter room when she first arrived back on Venture. The young, dark-skinned woman sat alone at a table intently scanning a PADD by one of the expansive view ports, her forehead was wrinkled in concentration.

B'Elanna walked over to her table. "Mind if I join you, Lieutenant?"

Verdi looked up, and the businesslike set of her green eyes softened into a friendly gaze. "Dr. Torres," she said as she straightened. "Please do."

B'Elanna took the seat across from Verdi and set her mug on the small table's glossy metal surface. She glanced down at the PADD Verdi had been studying and saw that the warp core's schematic was displayed on the screen. "What's the trouble?" she said.

"Engine efficiency has diminished slightly in the past several hours," Verdi said. "We've followed the warp trail into a dense radiation field. I think it has adversely effected the engines." She shrugged. "It's not a big problem, just a perplexing one."

The news didn't set well with B'Elanna. "Let me see that." She said bluntly.

Verdi slid the PADD across the table. "We've gone over everything with a fine toothed comb. No one in engineering has been able to pinpoint the trouble."

B'Elanna studied the schematic. The Venture was one of the newest ships in the fleet; its design was elegant but still basic enough for B'Elanna to be of some help, even after a hiatus of ten years from the engineering field. "Are you going back to engineering soon?"

"I was just about to go."

"I'll come down to help you after I speak with Commander Solek," B'Elanna said getting up and taking a quick gulp of her coffee. "We'll have this problem solved before dinner."

"Dr. Torres," Verdi said. She reclaimed the PADD, slid it under her arm, and stood. "I can't burden you with this problem. You're under too much stress as it is."

"There are two ways to handle stress, Lieutenant," B'Elanna said. "One is to turn your back on the problem and run. The other is to face it head on and take your blows. I've always liked a good fight. I'm going to help you get these engines back to peak efficiency. Crevlin can't have even the smallest chance to escape. Not if I can do something about it."

Verdi smiled. "Then I'll see you in engineering."

* * *

Hours of intense work in engineering was exactly what B'Elanna had needed. She hadn't lost her touch after all those years, and felt at home working with what she considered to be the best engineering team in Starfleet. The engines were now humming like new, and she was proud of the engineering crew's efforts. But the day didn't go as smoothly as she'd planned. Solek had been unavailable to her the entire day, and the lack of communication nearly got the best of her. He'd been in constant conferences with Starfleet for hours over the comm. He couldn't possibly continue his search if Starfleet kept him tied up in continuous meetings.

Periodic reports on Tom's progress had heartened her however, and kept her on an even keel. In the morning, if all went as planned he would emerge from surgery and enter into the recovery phase. By then, they would hopefully have Crevlin's neck in a noose and everything would be right in the universe.

She was tired after her long day and this time when she entered the her quarters, it was the place where she most wanted to be. She kicked off her shoes and tumbled to the bed. Sleep would be exactly the right thing, and she wouldn't have any troubling dreams. She would just have a good solid well-deserved sleep.

She slept like a stone, waking up a few hours later. She popped her head off the pillow. She thought she had awakened to a voice calling her name, but all was silent. "Hello?" she said to the darkness.

"_B'Elanna,"_ a voice over the comm. said. It was B4.

She shot out of bed and breathlessly answered. "What is it?"

"_The commodore's surgery is complete, and I am sure you wish to see-"_

Before he could finish his sentence, she slipped on her shoes, and darted out the door.

* * *

When Tom regained consciousness, he had a vague idea he'd been attacked—by whom or what, he couldn't remember. He knew only that they had ripped him open and left him to die and that he'd lain unconscious long enough for a million ants to infest his body. They swarmed in and out of his flesh...gnawing...tunneling...he would be eaten alive.

"Tom..." It was the soft voice of an angel.

She touched him, but the ants didn't like it. His skin crawled and the contact sent ripples like fiery needles up his arm. He writhed and pulled away, but the pain of movement crushed him in a vice. There was no way he could survive such torment. "If you're here to kill me," he managed to say through clenched teeth. "Then get it over with."

"Over my dead body." She stubbornly replied.

"B'Elanna." Tom cracked open an eye and saw her sitting beside him with a blurry but worried look on her face. He thought she was a dream, something his mind made up to ease the pain. His dry throat reflexively swallowed. "Get them off me."

"What?" she asked, perplexed.

"The ants, get them off."

"What you are feeling Thomas," another voice broke in, "is the infusion of nanites into your system. They are working to restore the severed nerve endings and attempting to establish neural pathways throughout your new prosthesis."

None of that made sense, but Tom's mind was slowly clearing. "I was shot."

"Yes, Thomas," said B4. "You have suffered a major trauma that very nearly killed you. You're arm was severed, but I have reattached most of it. In time, your physical appearance and functionality should return to nearly normal, barring any unforeseen obstacles.

"God." Tom muttered and he tried to look down to see what might be left of him, but the pain kept him immobile.

"That would explain the discomfort you are experiencing, but do not worry,"

"Discomfort...hurts like hell."

"Can't you give him something for the pain?" said B'Elanna quickly.

"I can, but it would interfere with the nanites' efficiency." B4 gazed at Tom, lifting an eyebrow over his emotionless yellow eyes. "You see, Thomas, the nanites work more effectively when the connections between the brain and the nerve roots are fully functional. I can give you something to ease the pain, but it would extend your recovery period indefinitely. Since the current sensations you are feeling will pass in a few hours, I did not wish to administer them without your permission."

"B4, he's not able to make that decision yet," B'Elanna protested. "You have to give him _something_."

"I'll wait." Tom interjected, now realizing where he was...and a slow recovery was not what he wanted. "I can do it." Just then another wave hit him and he shut his eyes and took a deep breath...but that hurt too. Then the pain finally subsided, and he let out an unsteady breath. "Stay close B4. I might...change my mind."

"I know you too well, Thomas. You will not be calling on me." With that, B4 abruptly turned and left them alone.

"He knows everything," Tom remarked.

"He seems to." She reached out to him, but hesitated. She withdrew her hand, laying it back into her lap. "I missed you. These have been the longest two days of my life."

"Two days," Tom said in disbelief. All the while he was unconscious he'd been on his ship in a safe place, but bits and pieces of the nightmare on Onari flashed through his mind, and he squeezed his eyes to keep the memories from fusing together. But he knew that sometime he would have to face the bitter truth. He'd made a catastrophic mistake down in those foothills and it cost an innocent girl her life.

"You'll be alright now," said B'Elanna. Raw emotion was evident in her voice, as if she'd glimpsed his thoughts. "Everything will be alright—you'll see."

She was reaching out to him, trying to pull him back to her, he knew. He opened his eyes to find her still there at his side. Tears welled in her eyes, her human half clearly taking over. She grasped his good hand.

She was his rock...his foundation. Suddenly, he realized how close he'd come to losing her forever. "B'Elanna..." he said, but words somehow failed him.

"Save your strength. We'll have a lot of time to talk," she said, carefully straightening the sheet that lay across his body. "All you have to do now is rest and get better." She leaned over and kissed him. The warmth of her touch drew out some of the pain. "Is there anything you need?"

"Just you."

"Now _that,_ Flyboy, is one thing you'll always have."


	15. A Little Diversion

—_U.S.S. Prospect—_

A few days on an expansive ship like the Prospect should have taken Joaquin's mind off his troubles, but he found little diversion. Miral had taken up all his thoughts since that night on the pier.

She'd scared the hell out of him when she ran off that night. She claimed she wanted nothing more to do with him, but he'd be damned if he'd let her run off and do something crazy. He searched for her, wanting to make sure she got home safely, and once he walked her in the door, she could tell him to go to hell if that's what she wanted. At least he would know she was all right.

It didn't work out the way he wanted though. When he finally found Miral, she was with Bishop, and everything got worse from there. That Starfleet prick stepped in front of Miral and actually shoved Joaquin back when he attempted to talk to her. Joaquin was aching for a fight. He balled up his fists, ready to take him on.

But it was Miral who put a stop to it. Before any punches were thrown, she hooked her arm into Bishop's and begged him to take her home. The tears in her eyes were genuine, and Joaquin backed off. If that was what she really wanted. He wasn't about to make a fool of himself, but he sure as hell felt like one. He stood there like an idiot and watched her go. She never once looked back.

Now here he was, halfway to Aristarchus and feeling so unraveled that he didn't know what to do with himself. It was so damned frustrating. How could that one little girl leave him so twisted up inside? He stretched out on the bunk and sighed.

"Why don't you visit Star Base with me," Chakotay suggested, apparently tired of seeing his son sulking in their cabin.

"Nah. Think I'll stay here. Read a book."

"Hmph." Chakotay replied, as buttoned up his shirt. "Don't worry too much about Miral. She has a lot to sort through, but she'll be all right."

"You don't believe that any more than I do."

"She's not in our hands anymore, Joaquin...Never really was to begin with. She's a Paris and bound to be stubborn. She will be all right."

Joaquin looked up at his father. Chakotay straightened his shirt, and looking in the mirror, he concentrated on the fold of his collar. His father wasn't without concern of course, but he knew his son and decided it best to downplay the incident. There was simply nothing more they could do.

"Well, I'm going," Chakotay said when he turned around. "How do I look?"

"Collar's crooked," Joaquin said. He'd meant it as a joke, but Chakotay turned to look in the mirror again. Joaquin caught a glimpse of a phaser clipped at his father's belt.

"Why do you need that phaser?" he asked, "Don't they have security down there?"

"They do, but I don't trust them." He turned back around and lifted a brow. "Nausicans."

"Why in the hell would they hire Nausicans to run security?"

Chakotay shrugged. "A change in command…a treaty here and there…a few bad decisions at the upper levels and there you have it-Nausicans in charge of security."

"Well then, good luck." Joaquin said, "Any last words before you leave?"

"I'll be back." Chakotay said with a chuckle as he headed for the door. "I don't intend to start any trouble. Sure you don't want to come with me?"

"I'm sure."

"Son, don't stay cooped up in here all night. Get out and see some people. Do you some good."

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

Not much time passed before Joaquin followed his father's advice. None of the books in the Prospect's library interested him. He didn't want to read anyway. He just wanted to be alone, and now that he was, a walk around decks interested him more than staring at the four walls of the little cabin.

He didn't have a destination in mind, so in the end he found himself in the transporter room, standing in a queue of people waiting to go down to Star Base17.

All sorts of odd-looking beings waited to disembark to the Starbase, most of which would not be coming back to the Prospect. It was the strangest collection of creatures Joaquin had ever witnessed in one place. There was a rather large group of long-tentacled creatures gesticulating animatedly with one another, their tentacles whipped around wildly so that there was a wide berth separating them from the rest of the travelers. There were long toothed reptilian creatures, green and scaly, that stood glowering in one corner, very still. Maybe they were cold-blooded and were trying to conserve their energy. But the group that intrigued Joaquin the most were the beings that now climbed up to the transporter platform. He studied their strange garb. They looked like some kind of religious bodies were completely enveloped in flowing orange cloaks, their faces dark and hidden well within the folds of their hoods.

A pretty young woman dressed in a form hugging green jumpsuit, with her dark hair plaited in a long braid, was speaking with one of them. She was probably their interpreter. She hopped down from the transporter platform and repeated her clients' requests to the transporter technician.

The technician nodded at this and pulled at the transporter controls. The orange cloaks began to dissipate in the beam. All of the beings on the platform faced forward but one. Its hood hid its features, but Joaquin could have sworn it stared straight at him.

Strange…

He stepped forward to be in the next group to beam down, but the pretty interpreter tapped him on the shoulder.

"Do you mind if I go next?" she said with a bright smile. "I have to help with that last group. They're Seekers and have never visited a Star Base before."

"Go ahead."

"Thanks!" She winked at him and hopped up to the platform.

Seekers. He'd heard of them. They were a highly disciplined religious sect from Altair 7, and rarely traveled outside their home world. To them, space travel must be stressful enough, now they're making a trip to the Star base where they must mingle with so many different races. He wondered what had brought them so far from home.

As he stepped up to the platform after the interpreter beamed down, he thought about that one Seeker. Why had it watched him so intently? It left him with a peculiar feeling he couldn't shake. That fellow had seemed strangely familiar.

* * *

If Joaquin thought the transporter room was an odd collection of creatures, the moment he materialized onto Star Base 17, he knew he'd beamed into a different world altogether. There were all sorts of creatures here, many more varieties than before, most of which he'd never set eyes on even in textbooks. The languages were a hodgepodge of gurgles, pops and growls intermittently dispersed in the melee were a few strands of languages he recognized but could not completely understand. He wished he had a universal translator. The Starfleet people did, and some of them were in deep conversation with beings who would have been otherwise unintelligible.

The corridors were tight and he squeezed between two tall mucus-coated creatures who wore gelatinous bubbles of clear liquid over their heads, presumably to help them breathe. One of them mumbled something when Joaquin passed…likely an insult, but he didn't attempt an apology of any sort. He would likely insult them further by trying to interact with them in a clumsy manner, so he just squeezed through the crowd until he was well away from them.

Toward the end of the corridor the walls expanded into a wide vestibule.

Here creatures mingled, and servers offered drinks and refreshments. He tried to catch the eye of one of the green serving girls, but she was harried and didn't glance his way.

"Let me help you," said a woman behind him. He turned and saw the pretty young interpreter smiling at him. She looked passed him and threw her hand up to her mouth and called out. "Brrrachi-achi!" Rolling the r's as she did so. Joaquin cringed. Her shout rang out like a klaxon making his ears ring, but she'd made her point, a server immediately looked their way and nodded. The interpreter nudged Joaquin's arm. "You have to know what to say, or you'll never get anything around here. I practically live here, so…"

The serving girl deftly wove between the assortments of strange creatures and made her way toward them, balancing a large round tray of drinks above her head. When she finally caught up to them, she brought the tray down in front of them.

The interpreter picked a tall clear glass of liquid that was royal blue on the bottom and bright pink toward the top, with white clouds billowing off the surface. A toxic drink if Joaquin ever saw one. She handed it to him.

"Mathlirian Sunrise. Very tasty with just the right amount of kick. This one's on me."

Joaquin took the glass. "Thanks." He stared at it for a moment. Maybe he should drink it out of courtesy, but he hadn't had alcohol in so long.

"What's your name?" She said and held out a hand.

"Joaquin…" He took her hand. "Joaquin Diasakos."

"Wow! You're kidding me…you're Greek too? I'm Adara Vangelis," she pumped his hand vigorously. "Small universe!"

"My mother was Greek." He said. "I've never been to Greece myself."

"Oh, well…you should go back there someday." Adara glanced around. "Let's go find a place to sit. I'm sure we'll have lots to talk about."

She started to weave her way through the crowd and Joaquin followed. He was sure they would have nothing in common but Greek surnames but she was definitely entertaining, and maybe if he talked with her for a while he could find out more about those Seekers.

They found an empty table with several plush chairs surrounding it. As she found someone to wipe the table and clear it of empty glasses, Joaquin started on his drink. The Mathlirian Sunrise had a smooth berry taste to it, not at all like the antifreeze taste he'd expected.

"Sit down, why don't you?" Adara said. She sat sideways in the puffy cushions to face him.

Joaquin sank down into the soft cushions. The chair nearly swallowed him. "I don't think I'll be able to get out of this."

"You won't need to," replied Adara, "Not after drinking that."

He glanced at the long glass in his hand and raised his eyebrows. "Not much of a drink if you ask me." He'd knocked back a good two-thirds of it. "I could have another one."

"That's what they all say, before they pass out on the floor. Better take it easy, honey." She laughed, a silky flowing sound that reminded Joaquin of a bubbly spring.

He began to feel warm inside as the liquid dispersed into his bloodstream. The tension he'd felt since he left Earth and Miral began to dissolve. "I thought you were on duty, Adara," he said.

She looked at him quizzically.

"Those Seekers. Aren't you their interpreter?"

"Oh," she said with a wave of her hand. "I handed them over to my partner. She's showing them around the facilities. They won't need me for a long time."

"Why are they so far away from Altair 7?"

"They went to Earth for a few months to help settle a trade dispute with their neighbors and now they're going home. It's all very dull really, and I don't want to bore you with it." She moved closer to him, "I would rather talk about you. It was nice of you to let me get in front of that long line. Not many people would do that."

"I didn't mind."

"I can tell that about you. You're easy-going, and I like that." She took the glass from him and he closed his eyes and sank deeper into the chair. The drink was already taking hold of his senses.

"That's it, just relax." She got up and stood behind him to rub his shoulders "yes, let go of that tension."

Just as he was beginning to relax, an image of Miral flashed in his mind, and a little twinge of guilt sparked through him. Strange that he should feel guilty. It was just as well that he blew any chance he might have had with her, she was so frustratingly stubborn—and damn him—that's one of the things he liked about her. He let the alcohol's buzz take over. There was no need to think of Miral when there were plenty of other girls in the galaxy—like the one kneading his shoulders.

Just then Adara, abruptly drew her hands away. "I'll be right back, Sugar. I'm going to get myself another drink. Don't you go away."

Joaquin had opened his eyes a little. "Don't worry. I'll be right here."

Adara smiled, and though it was a pretty enough smile, it was a distant second to Miral's. There he went again. He had to get Miral Paris out of his mind, and maybe this woman would be just the thing to distract him.

Adara had turned to go when a group of Seekers squeezed through the crowded floor. She moved aside and attempted to speak to them.

The next second—he couldn't believe it—one of them raised his arms and shoved Adara hard. She let out a startled yelp, and fell over Joaquin's legs, tumbling head over heels to the floor, landing with a thud on the other side of his chair.

Joaquin sobered quickly and scrambled to get out of the chair. He pulled Adara off the floor and as she cursed and swiped at the spilled drink on her jumpsuit, he looked out over the crowd. The Seekers had weaved their way through the reception area and vanished.

"You all right?" he asked absently, his eyes still scanning the room. When he caught a splash of orange, he forgot Adara and instantly went toward it.

"That's it! Go get 'em lover!" he heard Adara shout, but he slipped into the crowd.

Joaquin shook his head, in an attempt to clear it of the alcohol's residual effects and concentrate on finding the offending Seeker. He pushed through the crowd, eliciting rude comments and growls, but he didn't care.

There was something strangely familiar about that seeker. Of course Joaquin couldn't see anything of the individual under the flowing orange cloak, but he was sure they'd met before.

When he caught up to them, the group had been stopped. A Nausican guard accosted them in a bellowing voice. "You Seekers start a fight. You will cause a riot. Maybe I take you all in. Throw you into a holding cell."

The crowded floor immediately began to thin as everyone sensed an oncoming confrontation.

One of the Seekers took a tentative step away from the group and then tried to bolt.

The Nausican latched onto an arm and twisted. The Seeker uttered a sharp cry.

The wrist that was in the Nausican's tight grip was exposed. The bone structure was delicate; the Seeker was definitely female. There was an audible pop and she let out a pained gasp. Joaquin pushed through the creatures in front of him. That brute was going to break her arm if someone didn't stop him.

Joaquin broke through to the front just in time to see the Seeker give the Nausican a swift knee to the groin. This time it was the crowd that gasped. A few cheers sporadically erupted. The Nausican, had not released her, and was checked only a second before he straightened and uttered a low growl from deep within his throat. With his long mane of black hair, the Nausican looked like a lion towering over its prey about to devour it. Joaquin lunged forward. He had to do something before the Nausican really hurt this girl.

"Listen friend, you don't need to be so rough," he said, gripping the Nausican's shoulder. "I'm sure she's learned her lesson. Let her go."

The hideous security guard glanced down at Joaquin's hand and then glared at him. "I am no friend of yours hu-mahn." The Nausican leaned so close when he spoke that spit spattered Joaquin's face, and he could smell the creature's rancid breath. "Do not interfere or I will take you into custody, too." The Nausican's black eyes glittered, as if he wanted Joaquin to challenge him. The Nausican put another squeeze on the girl's arm for emphasis, eliciting a sharp cry from his young victim.

That was enough. The Nausican went too far, and Joaquin knew what he had to do—something drastic and unexpected. He drew back and punched the Nausican in the throat, causing the creature to gag and stagger back, crashing into a jumble of hastily vacated chairs.

Joaquin shot a look back at the girl. "Did he hurt you?"

She stood frozen and gaped at him in stunned silence. So close now, he recognized those eyes that were now wide with fear.

"Miral!" Joaquin said in disbelief.

"Look out!" She shrieked.

But it was too late. Joaquin turned and caught a glimpse of the Nausican's fist—the instant before it plowed into his face

* * *

"To be honest with you," Captain Kim said as he and Chakotay walked down the corridors of Star Base17. "I don't know how long the Prospect will remain at Aristarchus. Starfleet's calling most of the ships in that area out to serve in the Onari system."

"So by the time we get back, we could still have the same problems we had before we left."

"We have to look at it realistically. Onari is Starfleet's main concern in that sector. You may be facing an evacuation at Aristarchus if the unrest spreads."

"Some families have left already," Chakotay said with a shake of his head. "Aristarchus has incredible potential for colonization. It has an abundance of natural resources. I'd hate to see- "

Someone shoved past him nearly knocking him down. He heard shouts of excitement down the hall.

"What's going on?" he said.

A security guard shoved past them. "A riot!" he shouted, with a gleam in his eye.

Chakotay and Harry followed the Nausican guard for a few meters and saw the melee. A chair flew over their heads and both men ducked. "Damn it, if any of my crew is mixed up in this—" they jumped aside as a Starfleet ensign slid past them on the ale soaked floor. "Hold on!" Harry reached down and grabbed the young man by the collar and pulled him up. "How did you get involved in this, Ensign?"

"Sir, I was hit from behind," the Ensign replied rubbing the back of his neck.

"You're out of it now, is that clear?"

"Yes, Captain."

Harry turned back toward the chaos and saw a uniformed crewman struggling against a being twice his size, and taking the worst of it. He uttered something Chakotay didn't quite catch and charged into the fray.

Chakotay couldn't let Harry take that creature on alone. He too pushed his way into the skirmish.

* * *

Joaquin pulled himself up from behind an overturned table. After what seemed an eternity, the fighting had subsided and there were only a few beings still at each other's throats.

Leaning against the table now for support, he held a cloth napkin to the side of his face. He couldn't see out of his left eye and for the life of him, he couldn't figure out how this whole thing could have happened. "He didn't hurt you did he?" he asked Miral who had kneeled down beside him, but he didn't try to look her way, his neck was sore from the way his head had snapped back when that Nausican punched him.

"I'm all right," she said. "I'm so sorry, Joaquin. It's all my fault."

"Tell me something I don't know," he said. "Look at my eye. Is it bad?" He took his hand away. She flinched, and Joaquin felt as if he'd been punched again. "By God, Miral you'll get me killed one of these days."

She frowned. "I'm sorry," she said again and bit her bottom lip.

The napkin was now soaked with blood and Joaquin reached into his back pocket for his handkerchief. "Damn it!" he exclaimed in frustration, "She stole my wallet!"

"Who?"

"That girl—" he slumped back against the table. "Never mind. What are you doing here anyway?"

"That's what I'd like to know," said a third voice. Miral and Joaquin looked up to find a very stern, Chakotay glaring down at both of them.

* * *

"Well, you did it," Joaquin said. "You finally landed me in jail." He sat across from Miral on the opposite wall of the Prospect's brig, a security field separating them.

Miral sat on the bench, arms wrapped around her knees, her head resting on top. She didn't look at him, preferring to face the steel gray wall beside her instead.

"Did you know that Nausican could have killed me?" Joaquin went on. "See this patch? I might be permanently blinded in this eye."

She lifted her head and glared at him. "Why didn't you go to sickbay and get it taken care of? Or are you just trying to make me feel sorry for you?"

"Can't you think of anyone other than yourself for once?" He shot back. "It just so happens that sickbay can't take me in because they have to handle all those innocent people who got sucked into your fight."

"My fight!" She said. "You threw the first punch!"

"_I _threw the first punch? Don't you pin this on me. I shouldn't even be in here. It's your fault and you know it."

"I told you I was sorry. I meant it."

"Like hell you meant it." He said, his voice flaring.

"You don't need to punish me, Joaquin." She said, "I'm already in the brig. I might be kicked out of the Academy and Starfleet altogether. My life is ruined. Does that make you feel better?"

"No," he said, "but you did it to yourself, stowing away on this ship was a crazy idea. What in the hell did you think you were doing?"

"You know, I've answered that question a million times already…Uncle Chakotay asked me that…Security asked me that…Captain Kim… I certainly don't want to go over it again with _you_!"

"Then answer me this, and I'll leave you alone. Why did you push that girl I was with?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Joaquin."

"Answer the question."

"I didn't want her talking to you, alright?" she huffed. "She had her groping hands all over you! It was like—I don't know—_wrong_ somehow."

He wanted to stay mad at her, but he felt a smile coming on.

"What's so funny?" she said, glowering at him.

"Nothing," he said, "Nothing at all."

She turned to face the wall again and heaved a heavy sigh.

As he sat there, he watched her. He guessed that she would sulk for a while and she had every reason was in a load of trouble, and if Joaquin were smart he'd stay away from her.

He knew he couldn't. He might be crazy, but he was glad she was here.


	16. Answers

_— U.S.S. Venture —_

**A**fter three days of recuperation, Tom was restless. Even though he knew he'd experienced a near-death trauma, he still resented the time it took for his body to heal, and the helplessness he felt in his current condition was too much to bear.

His arm was affixed to his chest in a tight sling. The new shoulder was as stiff and inflexible as lead. He couldn't shrug or even turn his head without "considerable discomfort" as B-4 had once so deftly described it. And there was the added discomfort of the tunic he had to wear that was specially designed to keep the swelling down. It was so constricting that it felt more like a straight jacket than a therapeutic garment, but Tom accepted it without complaint. He would do anything it took to get out of sickbay and back to running his ship.

He could walk, and his left arm was functioning normally so B-4 had said that Tom might be able to leave today, and that was good news. He'd been out of action for too long, and needed to get back to work. Problems had plagued the Venture since he'd been out of commission, and he intended to resolve them.

In a condensed report from Solek, who'd been in temporary command of Venture, Tom learned that Crevlin had eluded them. The news was like a slap in the face. They could have easily captured him within hours of his flight, but Starfleet had inexplicably halted the pursuit soon after it began. Solek had pressed the issue with Starfleet brass to allow them to proceed, but to no avail. They wouldn't budge; so once Tom was finally released from sickbay, someone—he didn't care who he had to get to—someone would damn sure give him answers.

Tom sat on the edge of the biobed and held back his urge to get up and go as B-4 ran a final tricorder scan over his shoulder. The android uttered a slight, "Mhmm."

Tom didn't know what that sound meant, B-4 giving him no facial cues to go by. "Well Doc, what's the verdict?" he finally said.

B-4 deftly pocketed the tricorder. "Thomas, I am pleased to report that the nanites have completed their tasks. You are free to go."

Tom slid off the bed and straightened, but the android held up a hand. "First, I'm going to review your physical therapy with you. Here is a chart of exercises you're going to begin today." B-4 showed him a PADD with arm and shoulder exercises in fully animated illustration.

Tom looked at the android as if he were crazy. "B-4, I still don't know how in the hell I'm going to do these. My whole right side feels like a sack of bricks."

"That is specifically why you must do them. You must restore circulation to your lower arm. This prosthesis will function almost as well as a natural shoulder joint, if you get it moving soon. I will stop by your quarters at 1700 hours to see how you are doing and to help you get started."

"A house call, eh?" Tom said. "That's why you're the best doc in Starfleet."

"You are lucky to have me," B-4 said in all sincerity, then he continued on the point. "I have already shown these exercises to B'Elanna, so she is fully aware of what you need to do."

Tom took the PADD. B'Elanna should be back by now. She'd only stepped out to get coffee, and she'd been gone for a while. For some reason, he didn't want to leave sickbay without her beside him.

He was studying the exercises and dreading the discomfort that would accompany them, then he felt a light touch on his left shoulder. "You ready to go?" B'Elanna said. She slipped the PADD out of his hand.

"Am I ever," Tom said as he got to his feet. He saw that she'd come back from her search empty-handed. "What happened, couldn't you find any coffee?"

"Oh, they're out." B'Elanna said. She walked with him to the doors.

"They're out?"

"Completely."

"B'Elanna," he said. He knew by her smile that she was up to something.

"I tried to stop them," she said with a shrug. 'But they wouldn't listen to me."

Tom gave her a questioning look.

The doors slid open.,

"Commodore on deck!" a voice announced, and a great cheer rose up. Crewmen lined the hall to see the former captain emerge from sickbay, and at that moment nothing could have pleased Tom more.

* * *

Tom was exhausted, but exhilarated. He'd gotten a lift from seeing the crew and talking to them. It had been a good homecoming, but now he had work to do. As soon as he stepped into his quarters he headed directly for his desk.

B'Elanna stepped up behind him and took his hand, redirecting him to the sofa. She helped him ease down onto the cushions, but he protested. "B'Elanna, I've got a lot of catching up to do."

"You'll have time. Right now, I'm going to get you a stiff drink." She stood and turned. "Make yourself comfortable." She walked across the room to a cabinet and opened it to retrieve a bottle from their private collection.

"Does B-4 approve?"

"I didn't ask." She straightened, holding a bottle of amber liquid. "This will do."

"Whiskey" He said with raised brows, "Why not champagne?"

"I need to talk to you about Miral."

He'd heard that line before, and he shifted uncomfortably. "Make mine straight up."

B'Elanna brought him a glass, and he took it. Judging by her dour look, he would rather face Crevlin than hear what his wife had to say. He took a drink, but there was not enough time to let the liquid anesthetize his brain.

It was best to clear the air—get it out in the open. "What has she done?"

"She's on her way to see us." B'Elanna said, setting her glass on the table in front of them. She shifted to face him, looking as if she were preparing for battle.

"And…?" he prompted.

"She's traveling on the U.S.S. Prospect."

"Harry's ship." Tom said, trying to let the words sink in, and piecing together what they might mean. He took another anesthetizing sip.

"Yes." B'Elanna said, and she placed a light hand on his shoulder. "She's in the brig."

Tom swallowed, and the whiskey went down like lava.

* * *

After Tom's painful coughing fit subsided, B'Elanna felt nearly as bad as he did having had to watch. She wished she could have softened the blow, but she didn't see any other way. He would have wanted the truth no matter how hard it was to take.

"Why," he finally said weakly. He cleared his throat. "Why is your daughter in my best friend's brig?"

"Well, _our _daughter wanted so desperately to see us that she…stowed away on the Prospect and—"

"Stowed away," Tom interrupted. "Why in the hell would she do something that crazy?" Then he laughed slightly grasping his sore shoulder. "Oh, well I'll be damned. This has to be one of Harry's practical jokes. He's fooled you B'Elanna, and you almost had me falling for it. This is a classic."

B'Elanna frowned. "It's no joke, Tom. I spoke to her myself yesterday. She's miserable."

Tom stared at her for a moment as reality sank in, then carefully he set the drink down, all traces of mirth vanished. "Why didn't you tell me as soon as you found out?"

"B-4 advised against it. He said elevated blood pressure would inhibit the nanites."

"Well, B-4 knows best," Tom said, throwing up his hand. "Why don't we go ask him for some parenting advice while we're at it?"

"This isn't funny, Tom."

"Am I laughing?" He rubbed his forehead. "Good God."

"The Prospect will be within transporter range in a few hours. Harry plans to turn her over to us."

"Great. That'll be fine," Tom said, and he carefully got to his feet. "I can't think about this right now." His voice was rough and weak. The news had obviously pained him. "I've got a ship to run." He said and walked purposefully toward the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to see Solek. We have a lot to do."

"What about Miral?" B'Elanna had hoped he'd want to discuss the matter thoroughly.

He paused before going out and gave her a pleading look. "What do you want me to say, B'Elanna? I'll see Miral soon. I may not have the leverage to get answers from Starfleet, but I sure as hell will get answers from my own daughter."


	17. All the Time in the World

_— U.S.S. Venture —_

B'Elanna kept herself busy with Onari Embassy business while Tom was away. Though she didn't like for him to be out of her sight, she knew he needed to be at work. He did need to catch up on ship's business, and Miral's stunt had shaken him up. When he came back to their quarters exhausted and worn out, he would be more susceptible to reason and take her up on her suggestion to rest.

She had some catching up to do as well. She had received a message from her young embassy assistant, Kaashi, and was heartened to hear that the Onari capitol had been stabilized and she and her brother Andie were once again able to attend school. The message had pulled at B'Elanna's heart and her sense of duty. She had no doubts about her decision to be with her family, but one day, when the time was right, she might return to her work there...if only for a short time.

The doors to their quarters slid open, and B'Elanna checked the desk clock. Sixteen-Thirty. "So you decided to come back. I almost went out to look for you."

"Didn't you think I could do it?" he said. "I'm ready to be back to work." Tom sat heavily on the edge of the bed. He grimaced and clutched his tightly wrapped arm.

It was then that she noticed that his face was drained of color, and a dark, hollowness surrounded his eyes.

She went to the bed and adjusted the pillows behind him. "You're going to lie down now," she said. "B-4 will be here soon, and you need to rest." She helped him lie back.

"I feel terrible," he groaned.

"You should. You're pushing yourself too hard." She sat on the edge of the bed beside him. "Don't make me worry about you. I'm sure Solek can handle things a little while longer."

"I know he can."

There was an edge to his voice she didn't like. "What did you find out? Did Starfleet give you any answers?"

"Yep. All tied up in a neat little bow." He said, and he reached up to touch her hair. "When did Harry say they'd be within range? I want to see my daughter."

"About five hours give or take," she placed her hand over his, that now rested on her forearm.

He gently squeezed her arm and smiled up at her, but there was something dark and troubling behind his eyes. "You got a helluva deal when you married me," he said. "Ever wonder why you did it?"

"I wanted your body," she replied. "Your heart and soul…I never questioned it." Then she laughed. "Except there was that one time though. Remember when you—" but she stopped when his smile faded. "I'm only teasing."

"I know," he said, "I just…need to know that you'll stay with me, support me no matter what happens."

"What is all this?" B'Elanna frowned. "I love you. You know I will. Please, tell me what's going on so I can help you."

Tom drew in a breath to reply, but the chime rang.

"Perfect timing," quipped B'Elanna.

"He's an android. We should expect that."

She lightly jabbed his chest with an accusing finger. "I'm not through with you. When B-4's gone, we are going to continue this conversation." She was heartened when he smiled. This time it was genuine.

* * *

Therapy was an excruciating experience. Tom winced when B-4 unwrapped his arm. He bit his bottom lip and went paler still when they removed the special tunic. The exercises designed to restore movement and flexibility, brought the pain to a whole new level. The session lasted only thirty minutes, but that was more than enough for B'Elanna's nerves.

"You did very well the first time, Thomas," B-4 said as he prepared to go. "Do not be disheartened by the present range of motion in your shoulder. It will improve over time as your body regains its strength. I will be back tomorrow. Same time."

Tom sat on the edge of the bed, cradling his arm. "Thanks, Doc. I had a blast."

B-4 cocked his head with a puzzled look. Then he raised his brows. "Sarcasm."

"You got it."

"Thank you for that example, I shall store it in my memory banks."

"Happy to be of help."

"Another one. Thank you."

B'Elanna realized that this kind of exchange could go on all night. She got up and guided the android to the doorway. "Thank you, B-4. You've been a great help and we do appreciate everything you've done for us."

"You are welcome, B'Elanna," he said, and he paused. "May I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead."

"Thomas utilizes sarcasm in his conversations five point three times more than you do. Why is that?"

"I don't know, I guess it's his way of dealing with stress."

"Like I didn't know that," B-4 said.

"Your delivery is a little monotonous," B'Elanna replied with a chuckle at the android's first attempt at applying what he'd learned. "You'll need to work on your inflection."

"Thank you, B'Elanna." He turned to go but paused again and looked back. "Do not attempt to replace the pressure garment or rewrap Thomas' arm. It can wait until he awakens."

B'Elanna turned and saw Tom lying flat on his back, with his knees bend over the foot of the bed, his feet still resting on the floor. He was sound asleep.

* * *

The alarm blared a few hours later, and B'Elanna groaned. She'd gotten Tom to scoot all the way onto the bed and then had fallen asleep beside him. She rubbed her eyes and yawned.

They would see Miral soon.

"Tom…" she said. He didn't move. He was still sleeping soundly. "Tom, wake up." She trailed her fingertips over his good arm and left behind a trail of gooseflesh.

"No no no…" he mumbled.

She used to wake him up that way and was happy to see it might still work. She did it again, this time on the injured arm. Goosebumps rose on his forearm, then she trailed her fingers over the smooth new skin, causing no reaction at all. There was no clear defining border that separated the normal skin from the graft, but she knew the difference.

She remembered the original, and she missed the subtle nuances that only a lover would notice. She traced her finger over his shoulder again, she could see in her mind what was now gone forever. Here, was once a thin scar left over from a gash he'd received during a fall. He had been climbing Frenchman's Cap in Australia a year after they'd returned to Earth, and he hadn't been near a medkit at the time. And here, just at the curve of his collarbone was another mark, crescent shaped and small. He'd not wanted to see a doctor about that one. She smiled and let out a low giggle when she remembered how he'd gotten it.

"What are you laughing about?" he muttered.

"Kiss me," she said.

"Kiss _me_, I can't move."

She did. His lips were warm and soft; she lingered for a moment, and savored their intoxicating feel. The rough stubble on his chin grazed her skin, leaving her wanting more, but she knew there wasn't enough time.

She pulled away and gazed down at him. "We've been given a second chance. Let's appreciate what we have." She ran a finger along his jaw line.

"I'd like to show you my appreciation right now, B'Elanna."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. Only my shoulder was injured you know. The rest of me is feeling just fine."

B'Elanna reached over and picked up the clock. It blared red numbers at her. She laid it face down on the table. "We have all the time in the world."


	18. Changes

The few stolen hours that she and Tom spent together in their quarters began a healing process in B'Elanna. Her emotional well being had been sorely tested and stretched to the limit in the past two weeks, and to have him respond to her in the most intimate way so soon after his trauma, renewed her hope that their lives together could be restored. They had been careful because of his injuries, and the experience of lovemaking, so tender and unhurried, had been more emotionally satisfying than she could have ever hoped.

Now, with her renewed spirit, she could tend to another pressing matter; her daughter's incarceration aboard Harry's ship. The very thought of Miral confined in the brig threatened to twist the knots back into her stomach. She couldn't wait to see her daughter and get her out of that mess. They had to be ready when she arrived, and that would be any time now.

Tom was able to slip back into the pressure garment without much complaint, but B'Elanna noticed that he'd held his breath when they stretched it over his shoulder. "That too tight?" She said as she knelt on the floor in front of him and finished wrapping the last strap around his arm just as B-4 had instructed her to do.

"Snug, but it feels about right," he said, flexing his fingers. "If the arm detaches now, at least I won't lose it."

"Not funny, Tom. Not funny at all."

"I was trying for morbid."

"Then you've succeeded," she said. She'd never known Tom to take himself too seriously. When in doubt, be sarcastic—it was a defense mechanism he'd learned early in life, to make light of a frightening ordeal. She wondered how long he would be able to keep it up, and what was going to happen when the reality of the injury finally came home. She rested her hand on his knee and propped her chin on top. "What am I going to do with you?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Love me," he said.

She couldn't read his expression, but for a fleeting moment he seemed lost and in need of reassurance. "I do love you. And that's the easy part," she replied. "It's keeping you out of trouble that worries me."

"I know, but you don't need to worry," he said. "I'm going to be around for a while."

"Oh?"

Tom nodded. "Seems I'll be taking some time off. I intended to tell you yesterday, but…" He shrugged one shoulder.

"Time off?" B'Elanna asked, straightening.

"That's why I was gone so long yesterday. I was trying to convince Starfleet that I'm able to resume my duties, but they wouldn't have it. 'It's for your own good, Paris,' they said, then they slapped me with three month's leave."

B'Elanna smiled when she saw a hurt look cross his face. "I'm sorry to say this, but I think they're right."

Tom groaned. "You're with _them_. My own wife is against me."

"I'm with_ you_." She said, "You've been through more pain and suffering in the past two weeks than most of those desk jockeys will see in a lifetime. It's good they understand that."

Tom gently cupped her cheek in his hand. "You'd keep me locked up if you had the chance I think."

"Maybe."

He let his hand fall and got to his feet. He took a few stiff steps before his walk became a fluid movement. When he reached the far side of their quarters, and looked out at the expanse of stars outside the view port. "He's still out there, I had hoped to bring him in."

"Crevlin." B'Elanna said. She got up and went to him. "Do we know where he is?"

"Yeah, we know where he is."

"What's stopping us then? Doesn't the Federation want him in custody?"

"It's funny how these things play out sometimes," he said. He pointed to a small dot of light among the stars. "Did you know, that right over there is a small chunk of galaxy that was handed over to the Romulans about a hundred years ago? It's just a small binary system set apart from all the major trade routes. The Romulans never bothered to develop it—Crevlin knew about it though, and he and his band of fugitives crossed its border and claimed asylum. We know exactly where he is, but by rights we can't touch him."

"Surely the Federation is negotiating with the Romulans by now. I don't see any reason why they'd want to hold onto him."

"You think that way because you understand the difference between right and wrong. The Romulans don't always see things that way. They might take this as an opportunity to get some concessions...maybe the return of some of their political prisoners. So while we're waiting for the diplomats to do their jobs, Crevlin could hit again. Only we don't know where. I won't sit idly by and wait until more innocent people are killed, B'Elanna. I just can't do it."

B'Elanna understood his sentiment. She'd seen the devastation first hand at the palace and afterward at the hospital…so much suffering…but Tom had been with the enemy, and witnessing Nanishia's cruel death at their hands must have been unbearable for him. But what could he do now that he was on forced leave, and Crevlin was tidily tucked away in his dark little corner for what looked to be an indefinite period of time?

Tom seemed so determined. She lightly touched his injured arm; the prosthesis would be a constant reminder of the tragedy on Onari, and it would be there for the rest of his life. He looked at her then, and she could see how deeply he'd been hurt. She didn't know what to say.

"Don't worry, B'Elanna." He said, and he covered her hand with his. "I won't do anything crazy."

She wanted to be reassured, but she knew him too well and the words did little to settle her apprehension.

The comm. signaled them_. "Commodore, the Prospect is within range."_

"Well," Tom said with a sigh. A faint smile played on his lips. "Let's go get our daughter."

* * *

_— U.S.S. Prospect —_

Miral languished in the Prospect's brig and awaited a terrible fate. It had to be terrible. She couldn't imagine anything good coming out of all this. The waiting was bad enough, but it was even worse without Joaquin. They released him a while ago so he could get treatment for his eye. Miral hoped the injury could be healed and he wouldn't lose his vision. He'd been brave to stand up to that hulking Nausican who was nearly twice his size. He'd thrown a good solid punch, and he'd done it to defend her.

It was her fault he'd been injured, but for her own preservation, she'd be the last to admit it. In fact, during questioning by security and other interested parties, she resolved not to admit to anything that wasn't obvious. Yes, she had smuggled herself onboard the Prospect. Yes she had then smuggled herself onto Star base 17. Yes, she was present when the riot started. And yes, she did assault the Nausican guard, but only in self-defense and under extreme duress.

That was it. That was all she did.

She groaned and smacked herself hard on forehead. "Idiot!" This did not go over well at all...not with Starfleet, not with Captain Kim, and certainly not with Uncle Chakotay. She still trembled when she remembered the look on his face.

Not good.

Soon, she'd have to tell the entire story to her parents. She'd gone through great lengths to get to them, but now she was afraid to see them. Sure she'd spoken to her mother, but Miral was certain that she would not be so sympathetic in person. And she did not want to face her dad and tell him everything while he was still recovering from serious injury. She'd wanted to build a career in Starfleet and to one day to make him proud. Only a miracle could make that happen now.

"Miral."

She looked up. It was Joaquin.

* * *

Joaquin had to come back. He didn't like the idea of Miral cooped up in that cell all alone, even though she had nearly killed him. "I just wanted to let you know that they were able to fix me up," he said. He glanced surreptitiously at the security guard who stood by the entrance of the brig. The guard stared straight ahead. "I brought you something," he said quietly, "Thought it might help you pass the time."

"You brought me something?" she said, perking up a little. She sat up on the bench. "Why? I've been nothing but trouble for you."

He shrugged. "I know." He placed a small silver device into a pass-through between the cells.

She stood and picked it up out of the tray.

"It's a GoPalm3000," he said. "It's got all the latest games on it and messaging."

Miral grasped the gadget tightly and clutched it to her as if it were her lifeline. She squeezed her eyes shut, and her face crumpled.

"Don't cry, Miral. It's just a—" suddenly, the security field went down and Joaquin turned.

The Paris' had come for their daughter.

"Daddy," Miral sobbed.

Commodore Paris went directly into the cell, and Miral threw her arms around him. "I'm sorry," she said through convulsing sobs. "I'm so sorry, Daddy."

Joaquin moved back, and Dr. Torres gave him a smile. "Ma'am," he said in acknowledgement, but he knew it was time to go.

He stepped out into the hall and could still hear Miral crying. She had her family back, and he was glad for her. But things between the two of them would change.

She wouldn't need him anymore, and that was something he'd miss very much.


	19. The Interrogation

**T**he Prospect was top of the line as far as Federation ships go. Certain quarters were designed with the greatest comfort of foreign dignitaries in mind, so after the stunt Miral pulled, she never expected to be having dinner in such posh surroundings. But it wasn't for her comfort of course. Captain Kim insisted that her parents have this place to themselves, after all they'd been through in the past two weeks.

For Miral, Captain Kim's generosity and overall good nature made what she did all the more unbearable. She'd humiliated him by smuggling herself onboard and exposing a weak spot in his ship's security. She'd lost Uncle Chakotay's trust by blatantly ignoring his request for her to remain Earth side. Not only did she disgrace Starfleet with her misconduct, but she dishonored her family as well. The Klingon blood that flowed in her veins curdled in shame, and she felt absolutely sick.

Mom and Dad hadn't said one word to her since they'd sat down to eat lunch. Mom ate quietly while Dad let his food go cold. He sat with his elbow resting on the table. On the PADD he held in front of him was Captain Kim's report on Miral's misdeeds. He studied it intently, not letting one word of the report slip past him. Occasionally when a sound escaped his throat, Miral imagined he'd read something particularly alarming. She searched his face for clues as to his state of mind, but he revealed nothing.

Her anxiety spiked. "Dad, I—"

"Shh." Mom responded, giving her a stern look.

Miral stared down at her dinner. Her food was getting cold too, and it made her nauseous just to see it. She pushed her plate away. Everything was so wrong. She'd wanted just to be with her parents again, to help them through the crisis, and now they had to bail her out of the worst mess she'd ever gotten herself into.

Dad lowered the PADD, and turned to face Miral and she shrank back into her chair.

"Sit up," he said. "Look at me."

As she straightened, a lump grew in her throat. She looked up and saw in the lines of his face how weary he had become since she'd last seen him on Earth. He'd suffered so much pain already, and here she was, his own daughter inflicting another wound. How could she have been so careless?

"You're a Starfleet Cadet," he said. "When you wear that uniform, you are honor bound to behave responsibly. No matter what's going wrong in your personal life, you have to have the courage to make the right decisions. Have you seen the list of charges against you? "

"No sir."

"Then let me read them to you," he said, "Let's see…unauthorized absence, aggravated assault, making evasive statements, destruction of property, inciting a riot—do I need to go on?"

"No sir."

"Where was your head, Miral? Do you realize how many people you've hurt?"

"I'm sorry, Dad," she said. She couldn't bear going over all the bad things she did, especially knowing that she'd disappointed him.

"You're sorry. Why in the world did you think that sneaking onboard Captain Kim's ship was a good idea?"

"Well," Miral said slowly, the intent look in his eyes worried her, and her voice began to tremble. "We—we were driving by the passenger transport area and—"

"Who are 'we'?" Dad interrupted.

"Bishop and I. He was taking me home that night after—"

"This Bishop," He asked, his eyes suddenly alight with interest. He took the PADD and started making notes. "Is he a cadet?"

"Yes, he's—"

"Did he help you in any way with this scheme of yours?"

"No!" Miral cried. Bishop might not have been the most tactful guy she'd ever met, but he didn't deserve to be dragged into this mess. "He didn't have anything to do with it. I promise! Please Daddy, don't report him! He just mentioned something about the Seekers going back home on the Prospect, and I thought up the rest. Honest I did."

Mom cleared her throat and Dad glanced at her. Miral sensed that her mother had just moved to her side of the argument.

"I didn't know what to do." Miral said, taking advantage of the moment. "No one Earth side could tell me what happened to you. All I knew was that it was really bad. I was scared. I thought I'd never see you again." She wiped angrily at the tears starting to bud in her eyes. She looked to her mother for support. "I couldn't just sit at home when my family needed me—You _did _need me didn't you?"

"Miral, you—" Dad began.

"Of course we did…" Mom interrupted. "We still do."

"B'Elanna…"

Mom held up her hand to quiet him. Dad sat back, but he was clearly annoyed. "Miral, your father and I need to talk in private. You have a lot of making up to do, to a lot of people. I want you to begin by sending an apology message to your aunt Moira for not being there after she traveled a very long way to be with you."

"Aunt Moira?"

"Yes, Aunt Moira. Did you forget? Obviously, you didn't tell her about your travel plans. She was frantic when she arrived back on Earth only to find an empty house. She had no idea where you were." She pointed to an adjacent room off the dining area. "There's a comm unit back there. It's all yours. And close the door behind you."

Miral slowly got up, expecting Dad to protest. He didn't though. He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair and glared at her mother. Miral moved out of the room as quietly as she could and made sure the door closed behind her. She listened for a moment to see when the shouting would start. When she heard nothing, she turned and found the small desk with the comm unit on top.

Aunt Moira. What Miral had done to her was inexcusable, and she didn't know any words that could possibly make things better between them. She clicked on the unit and wondered what else she would have to go through before she'd made up for all of her terrible misdeeds.

* * *

After a moment of cooling down, Tom spoke first. "All right, B'Elanna, you've interfered with your daughter's discipline. Do you want her to wash out of Starfleet?"

B'Elanna glared at him. "Of course not."

"Is it my imagination, or didn't we discuss how we'd handle this on the way over from Venture?"

"We discussed it, and we agreed, but I thought we would give her some time. Let her feel safe again. She shouldn't be made to think that we're rejecting her."

Tom groaned and rubbed his eyes. "I can't believe I'm hearing this." He sighed. "What do you want me to do? Smile and say everything's going to be all right?"

"Before rebuking her? Yes, actually, I do."

"What?" Tom retorted. "Have you read this report? Do you know what she had to do to join that group of Seekers?"

"Yes."

"She told them we were dead!" Tom exclaimed. "She signed over all of 'her' property. B'Elanna—she gave them everything we own!"

"No she didn't. It wasn't legal, and she understood that."

"Explain that to the Seekers who tried to sell our house! It's called _fraud_—but somehow, in your book, because she knew exactly what she was doing that makes it okay."

"I'm not trying to rationalize what she did. She knows she was wrong, and she should be punished—but she's very vulnerable right now. Imagine how she must have felt when they told her you were hurt…and possibly dying. Try to put yourself into her place for just one minute."

Tom drummed his fingers once against the table's smooth surface. B'Elanna watched him carefully. She hadn't expected him to lambaste their daughter. It wasn't like him at all.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head against the back of his chair and sat that way for a long moment. "Damn," he finally muttered.

"She does love you," B'Elanna ventured. "She loves you more than anything in the world."

He raised a brow and nodded thoughtfully. "It scares the hell out of me, you know—what she did. That she had the nerve to come this far on her own, not even knowing if she would get to us. She could have been lost or killed. She's my daughter, and I want to keep her safe, how can I do that when she won't listen to reason?"

"She's young. Have a little faith that she'll learn from this and make the right decisions next time. We can start by trusting her."

He lifted both brows at this. "Well, you can trust her. She'll still have to prove herself to me…but I think you have a point. I guess I have been harsh, so I'll ease up for now."

"Thank you."

"Under one condition."

B'Elanna just looked at him.

"She still has to formally apologize to Harry—_today_. I mean it. She really has to prove to him that she's sorry." He pressed his fingers and thumb against his temples. His voice was strained. "God, what a mess!"

"I agree." B'Elanna said, trying to sound cheerful. "But how about we put that PADD aside for now and spend a little quality time with our daughter?"

"You're the boss," he said, and released a tense laugh. "Oh brother, are you the boss."

"It's about time you realized that." She got up from the table. "I'll go see how far she's gotten on that message—"

Klaxons blared a red alert, and her heart jumped to her throat.

Ignoring his injury, Tom leaped out of his chair. "Stay here," he ordered. "Don't leave these quarters." He was out the door in a few strides.

Miral rushed out of her room. "What's happening?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out. Let's go." B'Elanna led Miral out into the hectic corridor, and then she realized she had ignored Tom's order to stay put. She glanced back at her daughter. "At least now I know where you get it from. Come on."


	20. Fracture

Tom had only gotten midway down the corridor when he was halted in mid-stride by a rolling tremble in the plating beneath his feet. He hit the wall and nearly collapsed from the bolt of pain that shot through his shoulder and down into his torso. He stayed there with his hand pressed against the wall for support, not daring to move. The lights dimmed and a chilling groan of tearing metal ripped its way through the ship somewhere below.

B'Elanna caught up to him with Miral close behind. "That's not good," B'Elanna quipped uneasily.

The red alert that had blared in their eardrums suddenly died, and the remaining lights flickered out. "I thought I told you two to stay put," Tom said gruffly, though he was relieved to find that they hadn't been injured.

"We're in this together," said B'Elanna. "Whether you like it or not." She took his arm to help him, but Tom pulled free.

"I'm all right," he said, straightening.

The emergency lights barely illuminated her features, but still, he could see that her expression was grim. She wasn't convinced of his well being, but she nodded in assent. "I can't see anything. Miral," she said shifting her attention to her daughter. "Let's find some damned lights." She stepped away.

"Stay here, B'Elanna," Tom said reaching for her. They were safe where they were, and he'd make sure they stayed that way.

Tom tapped his badge. "Paris to Venture."

An uneasy moment passed with no response from his ship. A flicker of fear coursed through him. Had the Venture been hit too? Residual creaks and moans passed through the walls and the floor beneath him, and he detected a burning smell, ever so faint, in the stagnant air. There was no way to know just how much damage the ship had sustained, and how much longer life support functions would remain online. Muffled shouts and cries echoed through the corridor, and from beyond the barriers of their darkened compartment the faint sound of red alert still warned the crew of danger.

"Solek, do you copy?"

The steady voice of his first officer punctuated the darkness. _"Solek here."_

"Status report, Mr. Solek. What the hell's happened?"

"_Sir, a vessel of undetermined origin has disintegrated in the proximity of the Prospect's port side."_

"How bad is it? Has Venture been hit?"

"_Venture was not damaged. We have scanned the Prospect. Damage to the port side is considerable, but contained to a small portion of the middle decks. The affected sections are currently being sealed off, and we are in the process of beaming out the trapped crewmen. Sir, due to the relative instability of your current position, I recommend that you beam aboard without delay."_

"Lock on to our location," Tom said.

Miral moved closer, perhaps out of fear that the transporter beam would pass her by if she stood too far away from him. Suddenly, the turbo lift booted up with a high-pitched whine, and the lights powered back on.

"Thank goodness!" she exclaimed.

Tom caught a glimpse of fear and relief in Miral's eyes, and for a brief moment he was back in the dessert heat of Onari, desperately trying to save another young girl's life. Nanishia's face had held that same expression the last time he saw her alive.

He made a swift decision. "You two are getting off this ship."

B'Elanna's mouth dropped open. "What about you?"

"I'm staying here. I'm going to get to the bottom of this."

"No, Dad," Miral protested, "I won't leave you!"

When he heard those innocent words, all the pain and frustration of the last two weeks crashed down upon him. Tom snapped. "You _won't_ leave me?" he said. His voice trembled with pent up fury. "Do you know what you're saying? Do you have any idea of the kind danger you've so blatantly thrown yourself into? You're not supposed to _be_ here, Miral! Look around you for God's sake, and use your head for once!"

Miral flinched. She said nothing, but only stared at her father in shock.

"You don't think you need to listen to anyone else," Tom continued, "but you sure as hell _will_ listen to me!"

"Tom…" B'Elanna warned, her gruff tone clearly expressing her disapproval.

Ignoring his wife, Tom glared fixedly at Miral. "Do I make myself clear, _Cadet_?"

"Yes, Sir." All color drained from Miral's face at her father's sudden and vicious outburst. Her chin quivered, but she held herself in check and didn't give in to emotion.

Tom had never reprimanded his daughter so severely—he never knew that monster was in him—but as bad as it made him feel, he let it stand.

"_Ready to transport, Commodore."_

"Beam my wife and daughter out of here." Tom said; his eyes met B'Elanna's. "It's for your own good."

Stunned, B'Elanna stepped toward him. "Tom don't do this—" The transporter took hold. She was cut off in mid-sentence, and Tom watched his family dissipate in the beams.

If the look on his wife's face were any indication, he'd have hell to pay when all this was over. He'd return to the Venture later and face the full force of B'Elanna's wrath—but it was a small price to pay for his family's safety.

He headed for the turbo lift, gambling that it still functioned, and would get him to where he needed to be. He stepped inside and leaned against the wall, painfully aware of every aching bone in his body.

"Bridge," he said.


	21. The Last Straw

**M**iral sat alone in the dark of the Paris' quarters on Venture thinking it no better than the Prospect's brig. As soon as they materialized into the Venture's transporter room, she had been told to go directly to the quarters and stay put, and judging by her mother's extremely foul mood, Miral decided it best not to cross her.

It was difficult to wait. She could see the U.S.S. Prospect from where she sat on the couch by the view port. Below her, the ship's disk-shaped topside was visible if she pressed her forehead against the clear barrier. The damage was to the underside, so the ship looked perfectly fine from her point of view, making the attack seem all the more surreal. Even though she had been onboard the Prospect when it happened, she still didn't want to believe that the ship had actually been attacked.

All this time that she waited alone, one thought kept coming back to her and it troubled her more and more. Strangely, it wasn't fear for her father. People had been killed on board the Prospect, and she had not heard from Joaquin.

She slumped down into the soft cushions, giving up on the vigil for the time being. There just wasn't anything to see. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the hand-held game Joaquin had given her. It lit up when she touched it and she skimmed through the list of contents. Games…Messages…Contacts…

The device blipped once and bright lights danced around the screen, and then Joaquin's nickname for her scrolled to the top.

'_Ladybug'_ it said,_ 'u ok?' _Miral felt a tiny thrill in the pit of her stomach. Had he been waiting for her to turn on the game all this time?

She smiled as she typed in her response. '_I'm ok_…_r u_?'

'_Yep…close call.'_

He was bit her bottom lip. Because of its size, this device cut their responses short; she had no way to tell if he was really all right. She couldn't think any more about that—it would hurt too much. Quickly, she punched in, '_Challenge you. Play a game?'_

Joaquin responded immediately. '_You'd lose…'_

Miral could imagine his quick smile. She smirked. _'Wanna bet?' _

Apparently, he was up for the challenge. _'You're on.' _

The gauntlet was thrown, and he'd accepted. For a brief time they could forget their troubles, and maybe—just maybe—she'd let him win.

* * *

Hours had passed since the attack, and what absolutely infuriated B'Elanna was the fact that she was a civilian aboard the Venture. She had no authority at all to override her husband's orders against her going back to the Prospect. He must have known that she would only go back for one thing, and that would be to grab him by the collar and drag him back to the Venture where he belonged. He'd already missed his second therapy session with B-4 and the android had given her a lecture on how important those sessions were. If Tom didn't exercise that arm he could lose it—and that would be inexcusable.

"When are you coming back then," she stated, rather than asked. She knew that questioning him was futile. This was the second exasperating communication she'd had with her husband since he'd so rudely snatched her away from the Prospect, and he still wasn't cooperating.

"_When I'm finished," _he replied calmly.

"Finished doing what?" B'Elanna shot back. There was silence at the other end, so she continued, "What do you want me to tell B-4? That your one therapy session was enough?"

There was a pause. _"I'll be back as soon as I can, B'Elanna. You'll have to accept that."_

She terminated the link between them. If she continued the discussion, she would start saying things unbecoming of a commodore's wife—but _ghuy'cha'! _Would he ever get an earful when he got back!

* * *

Tom took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Even though B'Elanna had a valid point, if she kept it up, he would have to tell Solek to cut off her communications privileges too. He hoped it wouldn't come to that, B'Elanna would never let him live it down, and he had enough explaining to do as it was.

He massaged the fingers on his injured hand; numbness had been creeping into them for the past hour, but he couldn't go back to Venture yet. What had happened to Prospect was of personal interest to him. Before impact, transporters had managed to grab hold of one of the attackers, and Tom had recognized him.

He stepped back in to sickbay where the attacker's body lay stretched out on a biobed.

"It was a fast acting poison," the medic was saying to Harry. "He must've ingested it before the attack. There was no way we could save him."

"He didn't want to be taken alive," Harry said, almost to himself.

Tom came up beside him and looked down at the corpse. The eyes were glazed over, and the skin was mottled with grotesque purplish blotches, but Tom knew the face. This man was one of the thugs who had abducted him from the banquet on Onari.

Harry looked up at Tom, and his brows drew together when he saw the look on his friend's face. "So you do know this man," he said.

"Yeah," Tom replied. "He was one of Crevlin's men, alright."

"They must have been desperate. Slapping a warp drive into such a small ship…we almost didn't detect them," Harry said, "You'd think they'd come to the negotiations table instead of fighting this way. Why can't they see that these actions they're taking are futile? The Federation's too big a bone for them to chew."

Tom shook his head. "They know what they're doing. Just like at the banquet on Onari. They're sitting back and choosing their targets. They knew they couldn't take out your ship, but they did manage to strike a blow that'll pull her out of this system."

Harry nodded. "You're right. We can't stay here; the damage was too severe. She has to be repaired."

"Why would they want your ship out of this system? What's their real objective?"

"The only Federation assets between us and the Onari system are a small outpost on Chartus, and the science colony on Aristarchus. Neither of them are crucial to the Federation politically or otherwise, but their destruction could be exploited to Crevlin's advantage."

"Problem is, we don't know which one he'll try to hit. We need to inform Starfleet about this."

"I agree, Tom," Harry said, "but we're going to need solid evidence if we're to present this to Starfleet. They might consider this attack a fluke. As far as their concerned, they have Crevlin huddled in a corner in Romulan territory, and it's only a matter of time before they have him."

Tom gestured to the corpse on the biobed. "This is all the proof I need," he said. "I was with them, Harry. Trust me. They'll stop at nothing. We can't just sit back and wait for them to make the next move." He grasped his arm, the numbness had intensified to a burning ache, but he couldn't let the infirmity stop him. He pressed on, trying to keep his voice level and calm. "We have to warn Chakotay. His family is on Aris—" Suddenly, a sickening chill moved through him, and he swayed, clutching the edge of the biobed for support. He bowed his head praying the sickness would pass, but his vision dimmed. He looked up, but he couldn't see his friend. "Harry…" he said, and his knees buckled.

"Medic!" Harry caught him and sat him down in a nearby chair.

Tom heard a hiss as the medic pumped medication into him from a hypo. The substance gave him and immediate boost. His mind and his vision began to clear and he saw Harry watching him closely.

"Go back to Venture, Tom," he said. "I'll get back with you over the comm."

"Guess I stayed out too late," Tom said. "B'Elanna's going to kill me."

"Not unless you beat her to it," said Harry with a half smile.

* * *

B'Elanna came back to her quarters for the third time that evening, not knowing what else to do.

"Is Dad back?" Miral said groggily. She lay curled up on the couch. Her head popped up briefly when her mother walked in.

"No," B'Elanna replied. "Go back to sleep."

Miral curled up tighter and nestled comfortably into the couch.

B'Elanna wished she could be so relaxed, but she really wanted to break something-anything. Ever since Tom had so unceremoniously dispatched them back to the Venture, she had felt like a caged animal. He had promised her long ago when she left Starfleet that he would never pull rank on her, but that's exactly what he did.

She drew in a calming breath, but it only made her anger more intense. Something would have to give; she hoped it wouldn't be her sanity. She knew their lives would not be back to normal so soon and while they were so close to danger, but still she expected a little better than this.

As she paced, her foot caught on a crumple of clothing. Miral's jacket. B'Elanna sighed heavily and bent down to pick it up. When she did so, something light fluttered to the floor. It was a photograph. She picked it up and turned it over.

Her breath caught. Miral and Tom together. He was pushing her on that silly old swing set. She remembered taking the picture. It had been one of those lazy summer afternoons when they seemed to have it all…life, love, a precious little girl. B'Elanna glanced over at the sleeping Miral. She still looked very innocent when she was asleep, so much like the little girl she used to be.

_You can't go home,_ B'Elanna thought, _no matter how deeply you long for it. _Reluctantly, she tucked the picture back into the pocket, and folded the jacket, laying it gently on the sofa.

The comm. came to life and bleeped, startling B'Elanna. She moved quickly to it and answered. "Dr. Torres."

"B'Elanna, Thomas is in sickbay," said B-4 without preamble.

"What?"

"Do not worry. He is sleeping."

"What happened?" B'Elanna asked, dark dread grew in the pit of her stomach.

"He collapsed while—"

"He collapsed?" she interrupted, hoping she hadn't heard him correctly.

"That is right. He briefly lost consciousness while onboard the Prospect, but with rest and proper care, he will recover."

"No, he won't," she replied sharply, though she didn't know where the words came from.

"I assure you, B'Elanna, he will be all right."

"I know for a _fact_ he won't be all right," B'Elanna exclaimed, "because I'm going to_ kill_ him!"

There was a pause while the android processed what she said. "Your words did not register in my data banks as a form of sarcasm, yet judging from your past actions and attitudes toward your husband, I think you meant them as such. I suggest, B'Elanna, that you work on your inflection."

What was with this android and his fascination with sarcasm? B'Elanna wanted to scream out her frustration, but she resolved to steady herself and gain back a bit of her composure. She'd known all along that something terrible like this would happen. Tom must have known he'd push himself too hard. Why in hell would he do this to himself—and to her?

"I'm coming down there," she growled, and she slammed her fist down on the comm. smashing it in a crushing blow.


	22. A Close Call

"Where is he?" B'Elanna pronounced as she stormed into sickbay.

"B'Elanna," B-4 said in a hushed tone as he rushed forward. "Please lower your voice. I have other patients here who need rest."

There were injured crewmen from the Prospect lying in sickbay, and the three that were conscious, now stared at her. She clamped her mouth shut and frowned. She couldn't make a scene in front of them.

"You have injured your hand," B-4 said.

B'Elanna looked at her hand as if for the first time. "So I have," she said. Blood ran from a deep cut along the back of her knuckles. She knew she'd been hurt when she smashed the comm., but she was so upset at her husband that she didn't bother trying to find out how bad the injury was. This too, was Tom's fault. "Where is my husband?"

"This way. There is an empty bed beside him. You may take it while I mend your hand."

Even though B-4 could be blunt and irritatingly unsophisticated at times, those qualities had a calming effect on B'Elanna. She willingly followed him to the biobed, and the android left her for a moment to get the supplies needed to fix her hand.

Tom was sleeping soundly in the next bed, and to B'Elanna, he didn't look as bad off as she thought he would. She just watched him breathe. He looked so peaceful. His injured arm lay across his chest unbound by the straps he'd worn earlier. She'd come down here to berate him, to let him have it for worrying her and for hurting himself. Now what? She couldn't very well wake him; he desperately needed the rest.

She felt B-4's quiet presence beside her. Was the android watching her? She looked at him. "What is it, B-4?"

"I was merely observing." There was a hypo clutched in his left hand. "For the pain."

"I don't need it," she said and held out her hand to him. "The pain's all gone out of me."

B-4 quietly hummed as he worked with the protoplaser. The tune was pleasant, and she let out a sigh. She hadn't wanted to be soothed with a song, but it was happening. "What is that tune, anyway?"

"I have been studying old North American culture. Thomas recommended the course."

She nodded with a wry smile. "Figures. Why study anything important when you can learn about hula-hoops and hotrods?"

"Indeed. The study has been quite fascinating. The song I was humming was from a movie made in the late twentieth century entitled, 'Love Story'."

"What in the world made you think of that just now?"

"Have you seen the film?"

"Can't say I've had the pleasure."

"It is about love standing strong through adversity. There is a rather perplexing quote from the film. I wonder if you could explain it to me."

"I'll try."

"'Love means never having to say you are sorry.'"

"Tripe!" B'Elanna scoffed. "It makes no sense at all." She pointed an accusing finger at Tom who still lay asleep. "You see that no good…stubborn…irritating man lying right there, acting as if he's oblivious to everything? I love him, damn it! That's why he's going to apologize to me!" She threw up her hand in frustration. "Why am I telling you all of this? You wouldn't understand."

"Would I not?" B-4 said as he finished up with a last sweep of the protoplaser. "I hold a doctorate in psychology."

"I didn't know that."

"I do not practice. Not many people would care to tell their troubles to 'the android'." He shrugged. "No matter. But it seems to have helped you to, how do they say it—'unload'."

She felt as if she'd been duped. "Maybe so, but I'm still going to hash this out with my husband," she said, and then louder, "Did you hear that Thomas Eugene Paris?" She hopped down from the biobed and flexed her hand. "Thanks for the repair job," she said, "I'll be back in the morning, say, 8:00 sharp? He will be awake at that time I assume?"

"I presume so."

"Good," she started to go then touched his shoulder. B-4 raised his brows. "Oh, and by the way, you might want to make yourself scarce when I come back. It won't be pretty," she said shaking her head. "Nope. Not pretty at all."

* * *

B-4 waited until the doors closed behind her before he turned back to where Tom lay on the biobed. He picked up a hypo and adjusted the medication.

Tom's eye cracked open. "She's gone?" he whispered.

"Yes," replied the android. "She has been given time 'to cool off', as you requested."

Tom sat up, slowly to keep the pain from flaring in his shoulder. "Thanks B-4, you saved my life."

"That is why I am here," B-4 said as he plunged the medication into Tom's good arm. "I cannot lie, Thomas. You were fortunate she did not ask me if you were awake, but now you must try to sleep. Judging from what I have just witnessed, you will need all of your strength for your eight a.m. conference with B'Elanna."

"You mean confrontation." Tom corrected. "In any case, I can't sleep right now. I have to meet with Solek." Tom grabbed his shirt. "I'll be back in a little while."

The android placed a restraining hand on Tom's arm. "Remain where you are." He picked up Tom's injured hand and studied it carefully. "I am concerned about the discoloration in your fingers," he said after a moment. "Do you have any feeling in the tips?"

"Yeah, they're just a little tingly that's all."

"Must I explain again the importance of allowing your body sufficient time to recover?" B-4 said as he still examined the hand.

"B-4, we're in the middle of the worst crisis I've ever—ow! What did you do?"

"Just as I thought, your wrist has only forty percent of its normal range of motion. I will inform Mr. Solek that you will remain in sickbay for another 24 hours."

"You can't do that. We've got serious problems in this sector. I can't help resolve them while I'm cooped up in sickbay! I'm feeling much better now, thanks to you. Just give me something to tide me over for another hour or so, and I'll come back after that."

"Thomas, you are not physically capable of continuing the work schedule you have made for yourself. Indeed, it would be unwise for a healthy man to do what you are attempting to do, much less a man in your compromised physical condition. You must allow your body to heal. If you do not, you will lose your arm and quite possibly your life. I hope it will not come to this, but I am prepared to send a recommendation to Starfleet Command to have you sent to the rehabilitation colony on Rigel."

"You wouldn't dare," Tom said in a low threatening voice.

"Indeed?" B-4 replied with raised brows. "You may put me to the test if you wish."

"You can't be serious! Damn it, B-4, I'm a commodore now! You can't just decide to send me away."

"I am your doctor, Thomas," B-4 crossed his arms. "I have the authority."

"Of all the—" Tom stared at the android, but he knew B-4 would do it. "You're the most obstinate android I've ever met."

"I knew you would see the logic of the situation," satisfied, B-4 went to attend his other patients.

Tom waited until B-4 was well away from him, and then reached for his combadge that lay on the table beside him. "Mr. Solek," he said.

"Solek here, Sir."

"Change of plans. Meet me in sickbay at oh five hundred."

"Aye, Sir."

Tom replaced the combadge to the table and put a hand over his eyes. The medication had given him a slight buzz and he was beginning to feel drowsy, but there was so much to do before he turned the ship over to Solek. With Crevlin out there planning his next move, there was no time to sleep.

* * *

B'Elanna hummed a tune as she stepped through the door of her quarters, though it was not the theme from 'Love Story'. Her choice of melody was Klingon in origin and had a militaristic cadence, which lifted her spirits immensely.

Once again, Miral awoke upon her mother's entry. "Mom? Is that you?"

"It's me." She resumed her humming and went to her closet to chose a nightgown.

"Is Dad back yet?" Miral asked.

"He's back."

"Where is he?"

"He's resting. B-4 wanted him to spend the night in sickbay."

"Is he okay?" Miral asked quickly. "He wasn't hurt was he?"

B'Elanna ceased her humming and turned when she heard the heartbreak in her daughter's voice. Miral was sitting up on the couch clutching a pillow, looking as if the world were coming to an end.

B'Elanna went to her and sat down beside her on the couch. "He's all right, Miral. He's all right." B'Elanna soothed. She lifted a hand to her daughter's sleep-tousled hair and smoothed it. Miral had been sleeping so easily that B'Elanna had no idea how much she had worried. "He's just…very, very tired, that's all."

"You should tell me the truth," Miral said. "If he's just tired, he could come here to sleep."

B'Elanna knew she wasn't being completely honest with Miral, but it wouldn't do the girl any good to learn that her father had pushed himself to the point of collapse. "It's true. He's just resting. He'll be up and around by tomorrow morning."

Miral got up. "I'm going to see him now."

B'Elanna grabbed her arm and forced her to sit down again. "What has gotten into you? I told you he's resting, and you will not disturb him!"

"Okay. If that's the way you want it," Miral huffed. She crossed her arms, and her brows drew down sternly. "I'll just stay here and try to go to sleep—_again_." She moved over and flung herself down on the couch.

"Miral, for heaven's sake!"

"Good night, Mom." Miral stubbornly faced the back of the couch and closed her eyes tightly.

Locking horns with each other seemed to be their family pastime. "Stubborn!" B'Elanna quipped. "Just like your father."

Well, B'Elanna for one was finished arguing. No matter how difficult Miral decided to be, there would be no more fighting tonight. B'Elanna would get enough hostility bright and early tomorrow morning when she met with her husband.

She got up from the couch, pulled a blanket from the bed, and covered her daughter with it.

"Thanks," Miral muttered dryly.

B'Elanna sighed. She tried to remember that Klingon tune she had been humming, but for some reason it didn't come back to her.


	23. Visiting Hour

-Sickbay - 0430 the next morning

Tom lay on the biobed in a perpetual state of bleariness. B-4 had advised him to rest a few hours ago, so why did the android insist on poking and prodding him at intervals throughout the night?

When Tom asked him this, the android was matter-of-fact with his answer. "The blood flow to your lower arm has diminished. Periodic exercise should reestablish good circulation. See? Already, your fingers are returning to their proper coloration."

The grayish hue had worried Tom when B-4 pointed it out to him earlier, and he was relieved to see the pink back in them.

B-4 shoved a ball into his injured hand. "This exercise is very simple. Squeeze the ball and release. Squeeze and release. Do this for five minutes, and you may have the rest of the morning off."

When B-4 left his side, Tom tried to squeeze the ball, and for all his effort, he couldn't make a dent in it. The hand lay motionless as if it were attached to someone else's body and incapable of responding to his commands. Medical science could put him back together—like so many puzzle pieces—so that now he resembled the man he used to be, but was it enough?

Until now, he had avoided examining the work B-4 had done to save his life. Without that pressure garment covering his upper body, he could see where the prosthesis had melded with his own flesh. It was a marvel really, what the android had done. Tom ran his fingers over the smooth and perfect skin that covered the new shoulder.

He could appreciate fine craftsmanship. The natural appearance of the simulated musculature and the nearly seamless junctures between real flesh and bone and the prosthetics gave his body the semblance of wholeness, but he wasn't whole anymore, not by a long shot.

Guilt over Nanishia's death tore away at him, and the pain ran deep. B-4 could not simply whip out a protoplaser and repair that kind of damage. _There's only one thing for that_, Tom thought as he willed his hand to squeeze the ball, _I'll just have to catch up with that bastard Crevlin and bring him to justice._

What kind of justice was still open for debate, and there was only one person with whom he would discuss the alternatives. Tom trusted his first officer more than anyone under his command. No matter how dirty the undertaking promised to become, Solek would help him flush out that snake Crevlin and put an end to his terrorism.

Tom tried to squeeze the damned ball again, and still it would not be molded. If he was too frail to indent a pliable rubber ball, what made him think he had the ability to bring a vicious terrorist to justice? Frustrated, he wrapped his strong hand over the weak one and pressed the disobedient fingers into the ball.

"That is not the way I told you to do this exercise, Thomas." B-4 was by the bed again.

"You must enjoy sneaking up on people," Tom said, a little embarrassed that the android had caught him cheating.

"On the contrary. I do not," the android replied with raised brows. "Did I give you that impression?"

"No B-4, you didn't. It was a joke."

"Ah yes." B-4 laughed incongruously, then abruptly sobered, a look of confusion crossing his face. "But the joke was not humorous."

"Jokes aren't always funny."

B-4 shrugged. "That is another lesson I shall have to retain in order to grasp the subtle nuances of human communication." He continued with his analysis of Tom's progress. "Now you must remember Thomas, to use only your injured hand in this exercise. If you do it correctly, your hand will regain much of its original strength, but this therapy requires patience and determination. Do you believe you still possess those qualities?"

"Of course I do," Tom shot back. Discomfited by the android's question, Tom resumed the exercise just to prove him wrong, and this time the hand gripped the ball firmly. He stared at the feat in amazement.

"You see? It can be done," B-4 said with a slight smile. "You have a visitor, Thomas, but because you still need rest, I will only allow her to stay for a few minutes."

Sickbay was dark due to the early hour, and all Tom saw when he looked up was the silhouette of a woman. _Oh, God. It's B'Elanna_. Tom had figured on a few more hours to prepare for the impending clash with his wife. Why would she come down so early? He raised the back of the bed a little more and prepared himself for a barrage of degrading epithets she would shout at him, all of which he thoroughly deserved for the way he had treated her.

"Dad?" the figure said, and she walked toward the biobed.

Tom breathed a sigh of relief. "Miral honey, thank God it's you." His voice was warm and welcoming; his daughter was the perfect visitor at this moment. "Why are you up so early?"

Miral stood at the end of the bed too timid to come any closer. "I wanted to see you before Mom does."

"Oh," Tom said with a smirk, "You mean you want to see your old man before he meets his untimely demise?"

She didn't laugh or even smile. "Well, I just wanted to see…if you're still angry with me?"

Her head was bowed slightly, and he realized that the last he saw her he had shouted at her. At the time, he had feared for her safety. He hadn't intended to make her miserable. "Come here," he said. "There's no need to be afraid of me."

She moved closer and stood by his side. "You were right Dad. I'm not supposed to be here," she said quickly, as if speaking at all would get her into deeper trouble. "I should be at home with Aunt Moira, and I should have been an obedient daughter. Well, maybe I've always had trouble with that," she conceded, "but I know I was wrong to come all this way. I'll do anything you want me to do to make amends for all the trouble I caused, but I swear if I had the chance, I'd do it all over again."

"You would?" he replied, trying to sound stern, but pride in her prevented him.

She nodded. "In a heartbeat." She picked up the ball that had fallen loose from his grip. Her eyes went to his injured shoulder, and for one uncomfortable moment, Tom didn't know what to say. His daughter hadn't seen the damage that had been done to him, but she was bound to see sooner or later.

She tentatively touched the arm with the tips of her fingers and then drew back, as if afraid to injure him more.

"It hurts a lot, I know," she murmured. Then she bit her bottom lip and her eyes brimmed with tears. "Why did they do this to you, Daddy? Why?"

It tore his heart to see her so despondent. "Miral, sweetheart…sit down."

She pulled over a stool and sat next to him, tears now flowing down her cheeks. "I can't imagine the kind of people who could do such a horrible, despicable thing."

"It's good that you can't," he said quickly. "It means you have a heart."

"I do, and it breaks every time I think that you could have died," she said miserably. "You're _my_ Dad. No one should be able to take you away from me, but they _can_, and that scares me." Her breath hitched, and she swiped angrily at her wet cheeks.

"Shh. Nothing's going to happen to me," Tom said and he took her hand and brushed his thumb over the back.

"How can you say that? It already has. They wanted to kill you."

"But I'm all right," Tom said. "I'm still here, and no one's going to hurt me or any of us again, Miral. Not any more. The Federation knows where those criminals are and has them cornered. There's no chance they can do anything else to harm us."

Miral looked into his eyes, and he hoped she saw sincerity. That story was what he wanted her to believe. He wanted desperately to believe it himself, and he planned to make it true.

"Do you trust me?" he asked. "Have I ever let you down?"

"I trust you, Dad," she said at length. "But I don't trust them. They were cornered, and they were still able to attack the Prospect."

"What makes you think they did that?"

"Come on Dad. I put two and two together. I understand things." She leaned closer, and pleaded earnestly, "Aren't we going home soon, or are we staying out here indefinitely?"

"That's still being decided."

"You need to be at home so you can get better."

"Everything will be fine, Miral. Don't worry," Tom assured her. "I'm going to be alright."

"But I'll always worry about you." She put the ball back into his grip. "I want to help you to get better. So when we do go back home, we can be a family again." She smiled then. "Maybe we can even try out my new skis."

"Now why didn't I think of that?" Tom said. The thought of the two of them coasting down the slopes together brightened his spirits. "That's something to work for."

"I love you, Dad." she said and gently hugged him and kissed his cheek.

"I love you, too." Tom closed his eyes and breathed deeply the sweet scent of her hair. How good it was to be the father to this beautiful, courageous girl. He put his good arm around her and just held her. When she pulled away and brushed at left over tears, he saw that they were no longer alone. Solek's tall figure stood patiently at the doors to sickbay.

"Miral, I have some business to discuss with Mr. Solek. Why don't you go back to the cabin and catch up on your sleep?"

She looked apprehensively at the first officer, then back to her father. The girl seemed to sense something foreboding. "Dad, please…"

"Honey, we've got to discuss last minute details before I hand over the ship. Remember that I'm taking three months leave," he said hoping to counter balance her natural intuition. "We've got to do some planning. You should understand that, Cadet."

"Yes, Sir."

He took her hand again. "Come back after breakfast and we'll talk about that ski trip we planned for your birthday."

"But I thought you were going to be released from sickbay."

"Not for another day," he said.

Her expression changed from apprehension to distress. "Why? I thought you just needed to rest."

"I'm all right. We'll talk more when I see you again."

"Okay," she said grudgingly, "But you'd better tell me everything, Dad."

"I will."

Reluctantly, Miral turned to go. Solek moved forward as she passed, and when she glanced back, Dad's expression had changed from that of a loving father to a determined Starfleet commodore. He had plans, he'd said. Miral would give anything to know what they were, but she knew that finding out would make her very unhappy.

If she knew Dad, she also knew that he didn't intend to go home. He intended to fight this thing through to the end, and all she could do was hope that her family would survive.


	24. Ultimatum

**M**iral had left their quarters in a hurry. B'Elanna knew this because all she found of her daughter at 0700 that morning were an open satchel by the couch with a shirt hanging out of it, and a blanket that had been haphazardly thrown to the floor.

B'Elanna suspected that Miral had gone down to sickbay to see Tom, and if the girl caused her father even the slightest bit of grief, B'Elanna would send her straight home on the next transport to Earth. Tom needed to rest and besides, if anyone disturbed him it was she who should do the disturbing. After all as his wife, it was her right.

She had wanted to visit the mess hall for breakfast, but her upcoming encounter with Tom had her stomach in knots. So she settled for bland coffee and toast from the replicator, and headed out the door.

Walking alone down the long closed-in corridors toward sickbay had her longing for open spaces. Like the places she used go to take long walks through the woods back in California. Kahless, was she getting homesick? Her assignment on Onari had kept her away for the better part of an Earth year, and she was beginning to forget what her home was like, the scent of the cool forest air, the soft touch of the downy covers on her bed, and the cozy feeling of just curling up with Tom on a lazy Sunday morning. All those sensations seemed to be from another lifetime and long ago, like visions from some incredible dream that never really happened.

Everything had changed for them and in such a short time. She was beginning to believe they would never be able to go back, and if they did, their lives will be so irrevocably altered that the house would no longer seem like home anyway. Those Seekers might as well have sold it. At least it would have done some good to someone.

"Can you tell me where to find the turbo lift?"

The deep voice startled from her thoughts, and B'Elanna looked up. "Chakotay."

He fell into step beside her and smiled. "I think I really am lost. Got turned around in corridor three."

She laughed. "I'll take you there." Relief at seeing her longtime and most trusted friend, and knowing for certain that he had not been hurt in the attack on the Prospect caused her throat to tighten. "It's good to see you," she manage to say lightly. He carried a heavy-looking duffel bag slung over his shoulder. "I take it the Prospect is leaving?" she asked.

Chakotay nodded. "The damage was too extensive to be fixed here. Harry has to get the ship in for repairs."

"And there goes security for Aristarchus."

"I'm counting on them coming back. He said the turn around time should be about two weeks. We'll just have to do the best we can until then." He looked at her, eyes solemn and his mood more somber. "How's Tom? Harry told me what happened."

"He spent the night in sickbay. I'm on my way to see him now," she said with a sigh. "He was sleeping when I saw him last, so I won't know how he's doing until I talk to him. Of course B-4 is always confident about being able to 'repair' him. What I wouldn't give to have that kind of optimism."

"What B-4 has isn't optimism," Chakotay said. "He's an android. He isn't affected by any of this chaos that we emotional beings take to heart, but I'd say he's well aware of his capabilities as a physician. If he believes he can 'repair' Tom, I think it's a safe bet to believe that it's true."

"B-4 mended him once already," she said. "I thought it was for good, but Tom hurt himself because he won't slow down. He hasn't given himself time to work through what happened on Onari. And with this new attack…I just hope I can talk some sense into him before does something crazy."

"I can't say I blame him, given the circumstances," Chakotay said. "But Tom's tough. Don't worry B'Elanna, you'll both get through this, and you'll be stronger because of it."

"I hope you're right," she said, but Chakotay had his own problems to sort through. "How is Annika?" she asked. "She and Erin must miss you very much."

"I spoke with her yesterday after things settled down. I didn't tell her much about what happened, didn't want to worry her, but she senses things—she can always detect subtle nuances in my tone of voice. I can never get away with anything. But with her, I don't find that I want to."

B'Elanna smiled. So Chakotay was happy, and settled down—that was good. Lucky for him, his relationship with Seven wasn't nearly as tumultuous as her own was with Tom. But now that she thought of it, a bit of a struggle now and then gave their marriage a little spice. She smiled to herself; as much as Tom infuriated her at times, she wouldn't trade him for all the stars in the universe.

They paused when they came to the juncture where they would part ways. "The turbo lift is just down to the end of the hall. Turn left and you're there." B'Elanna took a deep breath. "I don't think I'm ready for this."

"Don't worry, I'm sure he'll listen to what you have to say," Chakotay offered. "Use the diplomatic approach." He gave her a reassuring smile and went on down the hall without her.

She went down the hall toward sickbay. She would try, but she was so jumbled up inside that she didn't know if she could use the diplomatic approach.

* * *

After his conference with Solek, Tom had a little while alone to contemplate the plans they had worked out. The first officer was well prepared and was now officially in command of Venture, which now left Tom to do his part, and it was two-fold.

First, he knew he had to put more effort into his recovery process; nearly losing consciousness on the Prospect had taught him that his body would not always be able to perform as he expected or hoped. He had better understand his limitations now while he still had time to learn to work around them.

His second and perhaps his most complicated and delicate task were to convince B'Elanna to go back home with their daughter and stay there until he would be able to join them. He had gone over the argument in his mind several times and no matter how he played it, she always said no. But that was just in his mind. The real B'Elanna would likely say _hell_ no. But he needed her to do it, for her sake and Miral's.

He might have had this problem worked out already had it not been for B-4 and his constant interruptions—and they weren't always for medical purposes. The android had taken an interest in North American pop culture, and bombarded Tom with incessant questions on the subject.

"I do not understand the fascination with the yo-yo," the android said as he picked up a tray by Tom's bedside. "It is based on the most simplistic physics principles, yet why would millions of people wish to waste time on such a frivolous diversion?" Tom opened his mouth to answer, but B-4 continued. "Which brings me to the topic of the Frisbee—"

"Ahem." B'Elanna walked toward them. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

Was it Tom's imagination, or was she a little early? He nervously glanced at his wrist to check the time, but there was no watch.

"B-4, I'd like to have a word alone with my husband."

"Of course," said B-4, "I shall 'make myself scarce'."

Tom pressed a button on the side of the bed to make himself appear just a little taller. "Are you sure my arm is all right without the pressure garment?" he asked B-4. Anything to stall. He had wanted some time without the android's presence, but now he might need B-4 to help keep the upcoming confrontation with B'Elanna from blowing up in his face.

"You do not need it anymore, Thomas. The arm will be fine in a sling." B-4 turned to go, but B'Elanna stopped him.

"I would like to talk with you when I'm finished here, B-4. If you have time."

"I shall be in my office."

"Thank you," she said, a little too pleasantly.

Tom silently studied B'Elanna's face, her body movements, for anything that might give him a clue as to her mood, but she appeared to be on an even keel this morning. He was, however, slightly alarmed when she started to pull the curtains around his bed. "B'Elanna," Tom said. "Let's be civil."

She paused and turned her head sharply to look at him. "Whatever are you talking about?"

"I know you're angry about my orders to keep you on the Venture," he said. "Don't deny it."

"Why would I be angry about that?" she yanked the curtain closed, and her tone was cool. "You simply did what you could to protect Miral and me, right?"

"That's right. You may not see it that way, because I know you, and you think I was asserting some kind of control over you—"

"Now you've hit it," she said raising an accusing finger. "You've read me completely, and I didn't have to waste any time telling you."

"There could have been another attack. I did what I had to do to protect my family."

She folded her arms in front of her and nodded. "That's right. But did you just once consider what might have happened to you? B-4 released you after your surgery because he thought you were smart enough to understand your limitations. He expected you to take it easy, not go chasing after terrorists!"

"B'Elanna," he said evenly. "Crevlin killed hundreds of people at that banquet. It's my duty to see that he is captured. You have to understand that."

"At what cost?" she said. "You're only one man. Crevlin has hundreds; I dare say thousands of followers who would do anything for him. How can you fight against that and expect to come out of it alive?"

"I know people too. Believe it or not, Crevlin isn't infallible and there are avenues we can use to get him that even _he_ hasn't considered."

"What avenues?" she said eyeing him suspiciously. "What are you planning to do? Charge into Romulan territory with photon torpedoes blasting? You've been watching too much _Captain Proton._ Tactics like that never work in real life."

"I understand that," Tom said quietly. "But I still have a moral obligation to finish this task, and I'm going to need your help. You told me you would support me no matter what."

"Don't you use those words against me, Tom Paris! I had no idea what you had in mind. I still don't!"

Tom drew in a calming breath. He would have to tell her eventually. "Venture is moving on to Aristarchus in the next couple of days. I'm going there to see for myself what they're up against. I intend to remain there throughout the duration of my leave. I've worked everything out with B-4, and he's in agreement. He believes my recovery can continue on Aristarchus." B'Elanna said nothing, but the shock was plain on her face. Before she was able to respond, Tom continued. "There will be a transport coming to Aristarchus a few days after we arrive. You and Miral will take it to the nearest star base and from there catch the U.S.S. T'Pau, which should get you to Earth within a couple of weeks."

"What?" she said, dumbfounded.

"I said you will take a transport and—"

"I heard what you said," B'Elanna retorted. "Has B-4 run a psychological exam on you yet?" She placed a hand on his forehead. "You're not feverish. You're insane! The last time we were separated, you came back to me in pieces." Her voice caught. "I don't want to go through that again. I'm not leaving you alone, and that's final."

"B'Elanna…be reasonable."

"I'm the only one with any reason left. You think you have to chase after the bad guys like John Wayne in one of your cheesy westerns, and Miral thinks she's got to chase after you. Neither of you are thinking clearly, so it's up to me to make sure you don't get yourselves killed. And don't even think about pulling rank on me!"

B'Elanna turned and stormed away, letting her words be the last.

Tom closed his eyes for a moment and drew in a deep breath. It had gone better than he expected. He was still in one piece.

Saving her life was worth risking their marriage for, if it came to that, but he still had time to convince her he was right without resorting to his authority to force her into compliance. She could be reasonable; she's a diplomat after all. He would give her time to mull it over and she would eventually come around to his way of thinking.

_Yeah,_ he thought with a wry laugh,_ when hell freezes over. _

* * *

B'Elanna leaned against the doorway to B-4's office, with her arms folded in front of her. "He's decided to spend his leave on Aristarchus," she said. "Did you know that?"

B-4 looked up from his work. "Yes. We discussed it at length after Mr. Solek left this morning."

She grunted. So she hadn't been Tom's first visitor of the day, but his third. "So. I take it you approve?"

"It is not whether I approve or not B'Elanna. Rather his health is the main issue and whether he can successfully recuperate on a planet with limited medical resources."

"So you don't approve then."

"We have come up with an acceptable plan."

"That's what _he_ said." B'Elanna retorted. "But no one has explained it to me. If I'm going to be with him to Aristarchus I'll need to know what you have in mind for his recovery."

"That is wonderful news, B'Elanna. It will be beneficial for him to have you there. I tried to convince him of that earlier."

She suddenly liked this android very much. "Thank you B-4. It's good to have you on my side." She noticed for the first time that he was running a holographic program clicking through various images of doctors.

"What are you doing?"

"I am programming a portable hologram that Thomas will carry with him to Aristarchus. Since I cannot travel with him, it will serve as a surrogate doctor. I will imbue it with all of my knowledge, and more. It will know Thomas' entire medical history. If you like I can input yours and your daughter's as well. I would need her permission of course. "

"Put mine in. I'll send Miral down to give you her permission too."

B'Elanna watched the images go by. The android seemed indecisive.

"Need some help?"

"Yes. Thomas doesn't respond to me as well as I would like, so I am trying to chose an image he would prefer…Perhaps I should let him choose."

"No. He's sleeping. I'll choose for him."

"Very well." B-4 continued clicking through the holograms. A plethora of images passed by and to each one B'Elanna said no. But then, she saw the one.

"Stop there," B'Elanna said. "This one is perfect."

They looked at the image. B-4 put a hand to his chin and B'Elanna's smile widened.

"Are you sure, B'Elanna? You know Thomas better than I, do you believe he will respond to this new image?"

"Yes B-4, this will be just the one he needs." Oh yes, just the thing he needs."


	25. Unpacking Trouble

**S**o they were going to stay on Aristarchus. Miral never would have guessed that. Never in a million years, but here they were. The shuttlecraft set down with a slight bump. Joaquin was already out of his seat and getting his things from the back. He was anxious to get home, and Uncle Chakotay, for all his worry about the Prospect having to divert away from here, still carried with him a sense of peace. They belonged here, and Miral thought with an inward sigh that she would be leaving very soon and possibly be traveling back to Earth by herself. When Mom had told her about the transport to the T'Pau, Miral cringed. That was Captain T'Poq's old command. Miral could just see herself traveling on a Vulcan ship all alone with those logical beings forcing her to study physics to catch up with T'Poq's class back at the academy. It was just too scary to think about.

The hatch opened and bright sun flooded in. Miral slipped on her sunglasses and frowned. So this is the great Aristarchus that Joaquin always bubbled about. Didn't look like much to her. They had landed on the flattest, most uninteresting area of land she had ever set eyes on. The compound where they were going to stay and where all those scientists lived and worked didn't look like much more than a gray and silver rock formation sprouting out from the ground. "Are you sure this is the right place?"

"This is it," Chakotay said. "This is home."

Miral bit her tongue. If Uncle Chakotay liked it this much then she would try to like it too.

She heard a groan coming from the cargo area. Her father had picked up a large bag of equipment and slung it onto his good shoulder. Miral rushed to his side. "Let me get that for you, Dad." She said lifting it. "You shouldn't be carrying anything."

"You sure?" he said. "It's heavy."

"I'm sure." She slung it over her shoulder, her back bending with the weight of it. "Ugh. You're right. What's in it?"

"Shoes, a few shirts…"

"…and a two-ton weight." Miral laughed. "I'll take it outside."

"Be careful, honey. It's got some sensitive equipment in it."

"Gotcha."

She carefully stepped out of the hatch and set the bag down in the shade of the shuttlecraft. Joaquin took some boxes that Uncle Chakotay handed out to him.

"This place looks deserted," she said. "Is anyone here?"

He set the boxes down. "This is the hottest part of the day. Everyone usually spends this time indoors or in the caverns where it's cool. Don't let first impressions spoil Aristarchus for you. She's got a lot of hidden surprises. When we're all unpacked, I'll show you around."

"I'd like that." Miral was glad to hear that it wouldn't get any hotter. Already her skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. She immediately took off the jacket that had kept her warm in the shuttle ride down but was now too hot to bear, and she began to tug her shirt off over her head when she noticed Joaquin's fascinated gaze.

"Ah, Joaquin, I have a tank on underneath."

"I hope so," he said, "but what I had in mind would have been a lot more interesting."

"You wish."

"Miral," Dad said. He stood just inside the door, eyeing Joaquin distrustfully. "Come here a sec. I need your help with something."

"Sure, Dad. Be right there." When he disappeared back into the shuttle, Miral stripped off the shirt, gave it a flirtatious twirl, and flung it playfully at Joaquin. She giggled as she hopped back into the shuttle.

Joaquin smiled and stared after her, holding the shirt loosely in his hands.

"Watch yourself," he heard, as Chakotay passed behind him.

Joaquin glanced back at his father who went about unpacking as if nothing happened. A subtle warning. He had better be careful with that girl, but she was so damned sexy in that little black tank. He rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. _Get a grip, Joaquin, _he thought. _This isn't any girl…this is Miral Paris—little Miral Paris. _

To rid himself of that vision of her stripping off that shirt, he set to busying himself with helping Chakotay double-check the supplies they had brought down with them.

"Pai! Papa!"

A little girl with flowing auburn hair rushed from the compound toward them.

Chakotay went out to meet her, his arms extended to sweep her in. "Erin! How's my menina? My little girl!"

As she wrapped her arms around his neck, another figure emerged from the compound. From this distance and because of the blonde hair, Joaquin assumed it to be his stepmother Annika, but that notion was quickly put to rest. The woman waved at him, in a big sweeping gesture.

It was Cairo Blanning, the newest member of the science colony, a biologist. And what was that he said to her before he left for Earth? Oh God, it was something to do with the way she looked in a bikini and then the kissing immediately ensued. Shit.

"Joaquin! I'm so glad you're home!" She hugged him tightly.

"Hello Cairo," he said stepping away with a furtive glance back at the shuttle. "It's good to be back. How have things been since we've been gone?"

"We've done pretty well. The raiding parties seem to be slacking off thank goodness. Martin found a new species of fish in the caverns. It's a bottom feeder. He's saved a specimen in the lab if you want to come look at it." She hooked her arm into his to lead him away.

"I can't right now. I need to unpack, and I—"

Cairo looked at the shuttle and a slight frown marred her pretty face, but she quickly recovered.

Joaquin saw a look of surprise on Miral's face when she set eyes on the two of them, and he swiftly spoke. "Cairo, I'd like you to meet Miral Paris. We grew up together back on Earth."

"Oh, how sweet. A childhood friend!" Cairo extended the hand that wasn't latched in a death grip on Joaquin's arm. "You're so lucky to have known him from way back. You and I should get together and swap stories."

"Yes," Miral said with a heated glare at Joaquin. "He's always been like a _brother_ to me."

"I'm sure." Cairo turned to Joaquin. "Looks like you have a lot to do, so I won't keep you, Hon." She kissed his cheek and picked up one of his bags. "I'll just take this to your room for you. Awfully nice to have met you, Miral." She said in an overly sweet tone, and then she turned and walked leisurely back to the compound.

Joaquin gave Miral his best apologetic look. "It's ah…not what you think."

"Save it for someone who cares." Miral said, and she went back to unloading the shuttle.

* * *

Coming to Aristarchus might be just the thing for Tom, B'Elanna thought. He smiled more and seemed to benefit from meeting the colony's scientists, all of whom were deeply engrossed in his tales of the ordeal on Onari. At least he was getting to talk it over and get the story out in the open, and maybe that would somehow help him cope.

After an evening meal, a tasty blend of Federation rations, and native foods, a group of the older men stayed in the dining hall to discuss the incident on the Prospect and what it could mean for them and their families. B'Elanna excused herself to ready the small quarters they were given for the duration of their stay. Tom would probably be exhausted when the night's discussions were over, and he could give her the highlights while they cozied up together. They hadn't bee able to do that since before Onari.

"B'Elanna," Annika said, as she came up to her. "Do you have a moment?" She had stayed out of the way most of the evening, preferring to look on as the others spoke. B'Elanna noticed that all night Annika looked as if she were on the verge of saying something important to her, but hadn't approached B'Elanna about it. It was strange, and now that she thought of it, Annika looked pale and tired.

"Aren't you feeling well?" B'Elanna asked.

"Will you please follow me to my chambers? I have a matter to discuss with you, but I cannot do it here." She said quietly.

B'Elanna nodded and followed her down some corridors to Annika's family quarters. The former Borg led her into a back room and quietly closed the door.

Annika took a few steps into the room and abruptly turned. "I'm pregnant."

"Annika! That's wonderful!" B'Elanna exclaimed.

"No, It is not."

B'Elanna's smile faded. "Why?"

"I have been away from the collective for many years now. Even so, I never thought I could understand what it is like to be completely human, but I have experienced it. Erin has completely changed me. She brings me so much joy that I desired to have another child." She started to cry. "Blast it, I am so emotional right now. It is annoying to cry for no reason." She sat on the bed.

B'Elanna sat down beside her. "I know what it's like, believe me. When I was pregnant with Miral, Tom had to walk on eggshells around me. He never knew when I would be gentle as a kitten or lash out at him like a tiger." _Though he responded very well to both creatures, _she thought with a smile.

"I did not wish to have a child right now though, not with so much instability around us. It was a miscalculation, and I do not know how to broach the subject with my husband."

"Just tell him. I'm sure he will be delighted."

"I know I should tell him, but he is so worried about our safety. Another child would be just an extra burden for him."

"No…No it wouldn't."

"I should be telling him this right now. I do not know why it is easier for me to tell you instead. Perhaps it is because I always looked to you and your strength of character as a guide. I have not told you that before, but even on Voyager, I looked to you as my strongest female role model. Even after all these years, I have yet to meet another woman with your strength of conviction."

"You've always been the strong one," B'Elanna corrected.

"Thank you," Annika replied, "but I am so unsure of myself. Pregnancy strips me of my logic and I become a pandering, simpering child. I need some chocolate." She got up from the bed, yanked a tissue from a box, and blew her nose. She then anxiously searched through a drawer shoving clothing left and right. "I know it is here somewhere. I keep it for just such emergencies."

_Seven is pregnant and having a chocolate crisis_, thought B'Elanna, _will wonders never cease?_

"Ah. Here they are," she said and she pouted. "I'm afraid I do not have much left. Not enough to last me for the next seven months." She caught herself. "I'm so sorry. My manners seem to have vanished as well as my reason. Would you like one, B'Elanna?"

"Seven—I mean—" B'Elanna began.

"You may call me Seven. The name is still very much a part of who I am. When you use it, it proves to me how long we have been friends."

"Tell him tonight, Seven. I want to see a smile on his face tomorrow, and you will feel much better after having done so." B'Elanna got up. "Looks like I arrived just in time. I suppose you'll be needing a doctor."

"There is no medical doctor on Aristarchus."

"Oh yes there is," B'Elanna said with a smile. "I think it's time I go unpack him."


	26. An Old Friend

**S**peaking with the colonists that first night had been an eye-opener for Tom. From the various stories they told, he learned that the raids on the compound had not been performed by clumsy amateurs. They had been carried out with stealth and precision and only made to appear haphazard. He had known that Aristarchus was high on Crevlin's list of targets long before he'd come here. Crevlin had told him directly, back on Onari when he was certain that Tom would soon be killed. There was no time to wait for Federation aid; there was no time even to wait for Harry's ship to return. The time to prepare was now.

One of his first steps was to get B'Elanna to agree to leave Aristarchus with Miral at the first opportunity. Either that, or force her to go, and that idea left a very bitter taste in his mouth. He came to their quarters and paused. Tonight, there would be no fight. He would have plenty of that soon enough.

When he quietly opened the door to their small quarters, he heard B'Elanna humming a tune. Most Klingon songs had their beginnings in war or battle, and the tune sent up a red flag in his brain. She was pumped about something, though he couldn't imagine what could have possibly happened in his absence that put her such a good mood.

She hadn't heard him come in. She had tucked her hair behind her ear and was busy unpacking her clothes. He came up behind her and kissed the exposed part of her neck.

She stopped singing. "Mmm… that's nice," she said. "Did the meeting break up?"

"Mm-hmm," He murmured, and he slipped his arm comfortably around her shoulder and held her. The warmth of her palm when she curved her gentle fingers over his arm, and the perfect fit of her body to his when she sighed and settled into him, reminded him of home. He held her for a moment, closing his eyes and rested his head against hers.

"You're tired," she said after a moment.

"Very." He replied, and then he released her and stepped away. He picked up a small glowing crystal that was lying on the dresser and turned it in his hand. "Some of the colonist's plan to leave when the next transport comes. They're worried about their families."

"Oh?" B'Elanna said. She put the last of her shirts in the drawer and turned to him. "Is Chakotay leaving too?"

"He hasn't said." Tom replaced the crystal. "But I want you to give it some serious thought, B'Elanna. Take our daughter home."

"Miral and I will go only if you go with us," B'Elanna said calmly, and he knew by the way she held herself, shoulders squared and fists clenched, that she would stand her ground on this matter. "Anyway," she continued. "Miral is eighteen now. If it comes down to it, she can go back on the transport by herself. She's made it abundantly clear to us that she isn't afraid of long distance space travel."

"You know as well as I do that she needs someone to be with her to make sure she actually gets back and doesn't pull some fantastic stunt like the last time." Tom sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed at his aching shoulder. "You're just being obstinate, and you know it."

"I'm your wife. It's my job." She softened a bit and walked over to him. "Does it hurt bad? Do you think you can do your exercises?"

"Shoulder's stiff," he groaned. "I can hardly move it."

"Then you'd better get started." She went back to the dresser.

"So," he said, reluctant to begin the agonizing therapy. "Did we bring the good doctor, or did we forget to pack him?"

"I didn't forget him. He's right here," she said and presented a small holo-emitter. "B-4 uploaded all of your medical history into this emitter, mine and Miral's too. Even Chakotay and his family's are in here."

"All in that little package."

B'Elanna handed the apparatus to Tom. "B-4 told me that a heating pad would help loosen up the joints in the prosthesis. I'll go ask Annika if they have one."

"We didn't pack one I suppose." He said warily. "I wonder if I'll always need special equipment to help me get by."

"That's a question for your doctor, isn't it?" she said. "Why don't you go ahead and boot him up? I'm sure he's anxious to get started, and so are you. I'll be back in a few minutes to help out."

B'Elanna slipped out the door and disappeared into the hall.

Tom looked down at the small device. He wasn't anxious at all to get started. There was a lot of misery attached to this seemingly innocuous little gadget. Those exercises were hell. He could wait a lifetime without that kind of torture, but he knew it was for his own good. "It's now or never, Tom," he said, and he reluctantly activated it, and then set it in a clear space on the floor.

A high-pitched tone like that of a dog whistle emitted from the device and for a moment, Tom thought the thing was a dud. He leaned over to pick it up and suddenly found himself reaching for a pair of shoes.

"State the nature of the medical emergency."

Tom held his breath as his eyes went up the legs, to the old style Voyager aqua and black uniform, and then to the dispassionate face looking down at him. This was a face he hadn't seen in a while, had never expected to see again. "Doc?"

The doctor frowned, and his brows drew together. "Ah Mr. Paris, I should have known. What happened? Did you crash the Delta Flyer?"

Tom straightened. Delta Flyer? Was this B'Elanna's idea of a practical joke?

"I suppose it's up to me now to make sure you don't fall apart?" the doctor complained. "Let me take a look at that arm." He carefully removed the sling and pushed up Tom's sleeve to reveal the lower portion of the prosthesis. "What beautiful craftsmanship. B-4 is a master surgeon. You were lucky, Mr. Paris, very lucky to have him when this happened."

"No offense, Doc, but you are the last person I expected to see."

The doctor ignored him and closely examined the juncture that melded his forearm with the artificial elbow joint. "The appearance is quite natural," the doctor said, and when he glanced back up at Tom, a curious look crossed his face. "Would you mind telling me one thing?"

"What?"

"Has Voyager passed through some kind of time vortex? You're _old!_"

Tom turned his head. "B'Elanna!" he shouted at the closed door.

* * *

"Did you hear that?" asked Seven as she reached into a bathroom cabinet for the heating pad.

"Hear what?" B'Elanna said.

Seven pressed a finger to her lips. "Wait." She stood still and listened for a moment, then nodded in affirmation. "He's calling you."

"Who is?"

She pulled out the heating pad and handed it to B'Elanna. "Your husband."

"You have good ears."

"You do not think he's hurt do you?" Concern came over Seven's face and she looked as if she were about to dash out to his aid.

"No, he's just going through therapy with the doctor. Guess I'd better go see him," B'Elanna said stepping out of the little room. "Are you going to speak with Chakotay tonight?"

"Yes," replied Seven. "I feel more like myself now. Perhaps it was something I ate."

"Federation rations will do that to you." She patted Seven's shoulder. "Good luck Seven, and congratulations. I'll send the doctor to see you tomorrow morning."

"Thank you, B'Elanna. You are a true friend."

B'Elanna smiled and when she turned to go, Chakotay entered the quarters. "Good night, Chakotay," she said in a sing-songy voice and waved with her fingers as she went out the door.

"Good night, B'Elanna." He stared after her as she left. "Wonder what's gotten into her?"

"Probably something she ate?" Seven offered, and she hooked her arm into his. "Come sit down, we have an important matter to discuss." With a slight flick of her foot, she kicked the door closed.


	27. Confession

**A**fter dinner, Miral spent her first evening on Aristarchus being led around by a very excited Erin Kotay. The little girl had grabbed her by the hand immediately after Miral emptied her tray. "Come on, Miral. I want to show you some neat places in the facilities."

Miral glanced around first to see if Joaquin had come to dinner, but he had not been in the dining hall all evening. Cairo hadn't been in to eat either and the idea of those two together somewhere made Miral's heart ache.

"Alright, she said to the girl. "I'll go with you for a little bit, but it's already late. I don't want your parents to worry."

"It's alright. I'm allowed to go wherever I want, as long as I don't go outside after dark."

"Just a minute." Miral saw her father sitting a few tables away with Uncle Chakotay and several of the colonists, and she went to him, Erin trailing close behind.

Dad smiled when he saw her, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that reminded Miral of a simpler time, when she could cuddle up close and he would protect her and take away all of her fears. But his attempted light-hearted smile couldn't conceal the weariness now clearly evident in the dark circles under his eyes. The trip to Aristarchus had been a heavy burden on him. He really needed her now, Miral thought, if only he could see that. "Can I get you anything, Dad?" she asked quietly.

"I'm fine, thanks Sweetheart."

"Erin's going to show me the facilities. I'll come by your quarters when I'm finished. Promise I won't be long."

A look of concern crossed her father's face, but Uncle Chakotay spoke. "You know the rules, Erin. No going outside the compound and stay out of the restricted areas."

"You can count on me, Papa. I'll keep Miral safe."

The other colonist's chuckled, and Erin tugged her arm. "Let's go!"

But Miral hesitated, wanting her father's approval.

"Go ahead, have some fun," he said. "I'll see you in a little while."

She turned to Erin. "Okay Kiddo. I'm all yours."

* * *

Erin was the perfect tour guide making sure to show Miral every place she would possibly want to visit during her stay, and then some. The facilities were more impressive on the inside with a good portion devoted to keeping up morale. Erin showed her the rec room, a small movie theater, a snack bar, a holo-suite, and an exercise room.

All of this would have brightened Miral's spirits had it not been for the complete lack of people, with many of the colonist's already gone, the place seemed dark and full of ghosts.

They stepped out into a corridor. "Where to next?" Miral asked her guide.

"Want to see some really neat animals?" Erin led her down a dark hallway. "Right up here is the lab where some of the animal specimens are kept. Martin likes to study them and he said I could have one of them when he's done with it. Only we have to convince my Papa that it's a good pet first."

"Oh?"

"It eats bugs and it has a tongue this long!" Erin stretched her arms out wide.

"Ew," said Miral, wanting to give the girl the proper response. Surely she was exaggerating.

"His name is Charley." The girl stopped at a door. "He's in here."

Erin pushed the door open, and they stepped into a brightly lit room that was a hodge podge of wall-to-wall computers and high tech equipment and animal cages. Much to Miral's relief there were actually human beings in here. The compound wasn't totally deserted after all.

"Martin, you in here?" Erin announced.

"Hey, Gingersnap!" came a friendly voice from behind a counter. Miral stood on tiptoe to see who the voice belonged to but all she saw was the top of a head with closely cropped light brown hair.

"Is Charley awake?" she asked.

"Come on back. I think you'll be very interested in what's been happening with our little friend Charley."

Erin went around to the other side of the counter, and Miral followed. Martin was crouched on the floor beside a 10-liter cage, replacing its wire mesh lid. Miral peered into the cage but saw nothing alive in the container, just gravel, sand, and a grouping of brown rocks.

"Hi there," said Martin when he looked up. He was a bit younger than Joaquin, maybe twenty. He wiped his hands on a cloth. "You must be Miral Paris."

She looked at him curiously. "How did you know?"

"We're a small community. Word travels fast here."

Erin was impatient. "Where's Charley? I don't see him."

"Charley's in there, Erin. But I think you might want to change his name." He scooted the cage away from the wall. "Take a look."

Erin went down on her knees and peered closely into the glass cage. Then her brown eyes went wide. "Charley's a girl! Look, Miral…eggs!"

Miral looked and there hidden beneath a layer of gravel was a long brown lizard with a red tipped tail, beneath that was a sticky looking cluster of yellowish eggs. "Yuck," she said, and wrinkled her nose. "They look like little wads of gum. I think I'm going to be sick."

Martin laughed. "Not a biologist I see."

"No, I'm a bit of a tinkerer you might say," she replied with a chuckle. "I'm a pilot."

"Really?" he said, his cool gray eyes lighting up with interest. "Say, we could use someone like you. How are you with hovercraft engines?"

"I built one from a kit once. I'm afraid it wasn't very sophisticated."

"That's more experience than any of us have. Since our own pilot flew the coop last month we've been in a bind. Our hovercraft kinda kicked the bucket last week; we've been trying to get it running again, but most of us are all thumbs when it comes to flight mechanics. It's a shame because we depend on that bucket of bolts to help us maintain our equipment out in the field."

"I've got plenty of time. I'd be happy to take a look at it in the morning. It would give me something to do."

"Great!"

"Martin, why are you signing our newly arrived guest up for work?" Joaquin had walked into the room carrying a small scanner. "Maybe she wants to take it easy while she's here."

Miral stood and to her relief there was no sign of that clingy Cairo around.

Martin slid the cage back into place against the wall and straightened. "Miral has decided to take a look at our hovercraft for us. The sooner we get it running, the sooner we can go out in the field again to see what's happening with our sensors."

"Speaking of sensors, we've lost another one." Joaquin handed the scanner to Martin. "I can't contact number three now."

"Any commonalities?" Martin asked as he studied the scanner.

"None," Joaquin said with a frown. "Number three was totally independent of the other failed systems."

"I've never seen this kind of problem with these sensors before, have you?"

"No. Are you sure we calibrated them correctly? Maybe the midday heat is too much for them."

Martin shook his head. "I don't think so, I calibrated them myself. It has to be something else."

"What's going on?" Miral asked. "What are the sensors for?"

"Weather sensors mostly," replied Joaquin. "We've placed them in a perimeter around the compound radiating out at 5 kilometer intervals. They detect shifts in the atmospheric pressure, temperature, wind speed and so forth. We're trying to collect enough data to help us predict the weather more accurately."

"So, Miral looks like you got here just in time. You're not leaving Aristarchus anytime soon are you, because we need someone with your background."

"Well, I…"

"You're putting her on the spot, Pal," warned Joaquin. "Don't do that."

Martin waved a hand. "You're right. Sorry Miral. I saw a solution to our problem, and I guess I got carried away."

"I'll check on it after breakfast like I said," she replied with a rebellious glance at Joaquin. "I think I can help you."

"Great!" Martin exclaimed. "I'll come by the dinning hall in the morning to pick you up. I don't think Squirt here showed you where the garage is yet."

"Hey!" remarked Erin who still crouched by the cage. "I heard that!"

"Martin," Joaquin interjected. "Ah, don't you have something important to do in the morning?"

"No, I don't think so..." Martin said thoughtfully.

"The replacement sensors…?" Joaquin prompted.

A look of recognition crossed his face. "Oh, right." He snapped his fingers. "Completely slipped my mind. I've got to calibrate the replacement sensors. Guess I will be busy tomorrow morning after all."

"I'll be in the dining hall for breakfast," said Joaquin. "I'll bring her down and make sure she gets well acquainted with our little hovercraft. How does that sound to you, Miral?"

"Well I'm glad you decided to ask my opinion, Joaquin. That will be fine."

"Good," said Martin, he slapped his hand down on the counter. "Good. It was very nice to meet you, Miral. I'll be interested in your prognosis when you're finished tomorrow."

"I'll let you know what I find," she offered. "Thanks for letting me help."

"Thank _you_, Miral." Martin said with a smile and then turned back to his work with the cages and talking in a cheery tone to Erin. Miral watched as he showed the little girl another creepy crawly example of native Aristarchan life.

When Miral glanced back at Joaquin he immediately turned and went to the back room, but she caught the hint of jealousy in his eyes. It was undeniable. Joaquin was trying to keep Martin away from her.

_Very interesting, _she thought. If she had time, and if she knew for sure that she was staying on Aristarchus for a while, she would explore this matter further.

Oh, what the hell, she would explore it now.

She followed him to the back room where he sat down at a console trying to bury himself in his work.

"Joaquin."

"Yes?" he said without looking up.

"Why don't you show me the hovercraft now?" she asked. "Erin is keeping busy and I don't have to be back for a while. What do you say?"

When he glanced up, his eyebrows were raised, and he drummed his fingers on the console. "Why didn't I think of that? I do need a break; my eyes are getting bleary from all these computers. Let's go."

He put a hand on her shoulder and walked her out. "Martin. We're going to see the hovercraft now. Are you going to be here for a while?"

"For another 45 minutes," Martin said. "Take your time. I'll make sure that Dimples here gets back home all right."

"Martin!" Erin admonished, then she giggled.

* * *

Joaquin walked silently down the darkened corridor beside Miral with his hands shoved in his pockets and his head bent in thought. Miral didn't want to barge into this quiet moment, but she was dying to ask him point blank about his feelings for her. It was hard to wait for a contemplative one like him to speak up. She envisioned shaking the truth out of him, but Joaquin required smooth handling.

She placed a hand on his elbow stopping his forward motion. In one swift movement she pulled him to her and pressed her lips to his. As much as she had anticipated this moment making such a move, she never played it out fully in her mind, and was unprepared for his fervent response. Without a word, his hands slipped down around her waist and he drew her in to deepen the kiss. When she felt herself sway with the lightheaded thrill that now washed over her, he widened his stance and steadied them both.

"Miral," he murmured, when he finally pulled away. "Don't play games with me."

"I'm not playing games, Joaquin," she replied. "I love you."


	28. Intrusion

"I love you."

She said those words, but not even Miral had expected to hear them. The feeling was so deeply hidden within her heart, that she hadn't realized it was there. Only now, when her defenses were down, did she understand the truth in those words.

She was in love with him, had always been, and she wished she hadn't said it. The stunned look in Joaquin's eyes was all she needed to know. She'd made a blunder, a terrible mistake. She would lose him before she had him.

"I shouldn't have said that," she said, pulling away, hoping she could salvage what might be left of their friendship. "You stood beside me and held me together when my life was falling apart. You were always there for me, even when I was a little girl." She placed a hand gently on his cheek. "I'm so grateful for you, Joaquin. And I'm sorry…I guess I mistook gratitude for love."

Joaquin stared at her. He felt as if he had just received a one-two punch and then shock gave way to frustration. "Miral, for God's sake you're tearing me apart." He gripped her shoulders firmly. "First you say you love me then you rip my heart out," he said breathlessly. "I told you not to play games with me. If you say you love me, then you'd better mean it. I couldn't take it otherwise." He brushed a hand over her hair and looked into her disbelieving eyes. After all they had been through together, how could she not understand how he felt? "When I first saw you in that room at the Admiral's, you were so sad and beautiful. You had my heart at that very moment. Did you know that?"

"No." she whispered.

"And when you left the pier that night with…what's-his-name—"

"You mean Tad Bish—"

He put a finger to her lips. "If you tell me his name, I'll have to kill him." He meant to sound light hearted, but at this moment with Miral so close, he knew would fight anyone who came between them. "What on Earth compelled you to leave with him?"

"I was so angry with you that night," she said. "I was angry with the whole universe, and you were only looking out for me."

"I was."

"I'm sorry."

"Are you sorry too," he added for emphasis, "for that Nausican at the Star Base who nearly put my eye out?"

"You didn't have to step in. I was handling that situation all right."

"He would have broken your arm if I hadn't intervened. You were crazy to stand up to him like that, and stowing away on the Prospect—you're insane Miral Paris, but I wouldn't have you any other way." He pulled her close enough so that his lips brushed hers. "I love you." He kissed her then to remove all doubt from her mind.

She pulled back to glare at him. "I'm_ insane_?"

He chuckled. "Yeah."

"How romantic," she said playfully shoving him, and then she curved her hand around the back of his neck she drew him down for another kiss, but she paused. "Wait."

This had to be the most confusing girl he had ever met. "Wait for what?"

"Do you hear that?"

Joaquin listened. At first he heard nothing but it soon came to him, a faint but persistent scraping sound of metal on metal. "I hear it."

He released her and slowly walked toward a closed door where the corridor slightly curved. He pressed his ear against it. "Someone's in there."

"Maybe they're working."

"No one's supposed to be in there." He flipped the cover up on the keypad. "We sealed off this lab months ago." He started to press a series of numbers.

A prickle of fear had Miral grasping his shoulder. "Don't."

But the door slid open revealing a darkened room and its long dead computers and abandoned equipment, illuminated only by one security light. Joaquin entered the room with Miral close behind. They slowly traced the scraping sound to the back.

"It's coming from the walls," Joaquin remarked.

"Mice?" Miral offered hopefully.

"Not hardly." He knelt down on one knee and peered under a desk that was pushed against the back wall. The sound was sharper here, as if someone were on the other side scoring the wall with a knife. When he ran his hand along the metal panel, he could feel the scraping through his palm. "What in hell…" he muttered. Then with a loud thud, a corner of the plate suddenly jolted outward and snapped back into place.

"Shit." he muttered. Someone was trying to come through. "Go get Martin."

"But you—"

The panel cracked open again with the sound of bending metal.

"Go!" Joaquin urged her, and this time she obeyed.

* * *

"All right, B'Elanna," Tom said when she came back from Seven's quarters with the heating pad. He jerked a thumb at the doctor who stood defiantly with his arms crossed. "Is this some kind of joke? Where's B-4?"

B'Elanna turned on the pad and felt it to make sure it was heating up. "B-4 said you weren't responding to him so he chose this image instead of his own," she explained, then she turned to the doctor. "I must apologize for my husband's rudeness, Doctor," she said. "He's not been himself since the injury."

"That's quite alright, Lt. Torres," the doctor replied. "Every doctor should be treated as an inanimate object."

"He _can__not_ be my doctor, there's something wrong with him."

"Nonsense."

"He thinks we're trapped in a time vortex!" Tom exclaimed, "B'Elanna, he thinks we're still on Voyager!"

"It's just a glitch. We didn't have time to fix it. He'll be a fine doctor for you; he always was in the past wasn't he?"

Tom glanced up at the doctor. "Don't you give me that smug look."

"You're simply angry because of my first impression of you the moment I was activated. You have aged considerably, but I have adjusted my programming so your appearance will no longer surprise me. When we escape this vortex and time returns to its standard course I will simply readjust my programming to your normal youthful appearance."

"Don't hold your breath," Tom muttered.

"Now, it's time to begin those exercises." The doctor said and he took hold of Tom's elbow. "First, let me see how far you can extend this arm."

Tom extended it as best he could, but the elbow would not go much further over a ninety-degree angle.

"This will not do, Mr. Paris. A little more effort if you please." The doctor said and without waiting, he grabbed the elbow and forearm, forcing the joint to extend a little more.

"Ow!" Tom hissed through his teeth as the pain flashed up his arm. "See what he's doing to me?"

"That's it, Tom," she patted his shoulder and kissed the top of his head. "Fight it out. It's the only way you're going to get better."

She smiled down at him lovingly. Now, even through the pain, he could feel his anger subsiding. "We'll talk about this later."

"I know we will," she replied.

The communicator at their bedside bleeped. "You stay. I'll get it," she said.

"Like I'm going anywhere."

She clicked the button on the communicator. "B'Elanna here."

"B'Elanna ," said Chakotay. "We've caught an intruder in the lower passage."

"An intruder?"

"I think you and Tom will want to come see," he said. "Annika said you have a doctor?"

"Yes."

"Bring him too."


	29. Choices

**B**y the time Tom, B'Elanna, and the doctor got down to the lab, several colonists were already there, crowded around a body that lay prone on the floor. The doctor immediately dispersed them and knelt down to run a tricorder scan.

Tom stood beside him and studied the intruder with interest. The man was thin from possible malnourishment and dark from exposure to the sun, which made Tom believe that the man had been living on Aristarchus for quite some time. His nondescript clothing of rugged brown was torn at the knees as if he had worn them for several weeks. There was no way to judge from his outward appearance, what race he was since there were so many human and humanoid settlers in this sector of space. "Is this man typical of the raiders that have been stealing from you?" he asked.

"Pretty much," answered Martin, who stood nearby. "This is the first time any of them has tried to break into the main facilities. In the past they've only gotten to our outer buildings. They're probably messing with our field sensors too."

"No doubt," said Joaquin, who sat in a chair next to him pressing a bloodied cloth to his forearm. "At least we have one of them now, he can tell us plenty about why they're here and what their plans are."

"You're not going to get any answers from him anytime soon," said the doctor glancing up. "You fractured his skull."

Joaquin looked up with brows raised. "Didn't think I hit him that hard, but it was the only way to get him off me."

"What'd you hit him with?" Martin asked with a laugh. "A desk?"

"Well, I had him by the neck, and he was thrashing so much that he sort of crashed into the desk. And it was a lucky thing. That tenacious bastard was biting the hell out of me." Joaquin extended his arm showing three bite marks now swollen and oozing blood.

Miral hissed and took his arm, carefully dabbing at the wounds with the cloth. "The doctor needs to look at this. Who knows what kind of diseases that guy's carrying."

"So he came in through there?" Tom said, stepping over to the broken panel, where Chakotay was already peering in with a flashlight.

"Yes, sir. I think there were at least two intruders, but the other took off when he heard the scuffle."

"Take a look," Chakotay said.

Tom knelt beside him. The passage was only large enough for one man and it was a tight squeeze. The other fellow must have been close behind and decided not to risk coming in when his comrade got into the tussle.

"Aristarchus is covered with these passages," Chakotay said. "All they had to do here was dig a little more to get to the wall. We'll have to seal this up tonight."

"We're already on it," Joaquin said. "I'm staying till it's done."

"We'll have to study the surveys and see if there are any more passages like this one nearby," Chakotay said. "And we'll have to extend the alarm system to the lower passages as well."

"First things first, Commander," said the doctor who now stood. "I have a patient to attend to. We must get this man to a proper location so I can see to his recovery."

"Commander?" Chakotay said and he glanced at Tom with one raised brow.

"It's a long story," said Tom.

"And that's one I'd like to hear." Chakotay replied. "Martin, see if you can locate a stretcher and get it down here."

"Will do."

* * *

Within a few minutes, a small crew was busily working on sealing the tunnel, and the injured intruder had been cleared away to quarters where the doctor could monitor him. Tom leaned against the doorway and watched the activity at a distance. It had been an eventful first night on Aristarchus, causing Tom great concern over the safety of the colonists. He was the only Federation representative present in the colony. They would look to him for answers and he was determined to help them, even if it meant exploring non-Federation channels to do so.

"Dad," Miral said. She had been so quiet that he didn't know she had walked up to him. "You okay?"

"I'm okay," he said, "Just a little tired, that's all." He read disbelief in her eyes.

"You looked a little angry, too. I hope it wasn't at me."

"I did?" He smiled. "Miral. Just because I look angry it doesn't mean I'm angry with you. I love you, and you don't need to worry about me so much."

"I was down here when this happened. I thought that—I mean, it looks like I can't keep out of trouble."

"I was worried when I found out you were down here, but I didn't blame you. You couldn't have known this would happen. You called for help, and you stayed with Erin when she was frightened. You did everything right, Honey, and I'm proud of you."

She gently hugged him. "Thanks Dad."

"There's nothing more we can do down here," B'Elanna said. "We all should go to our quarters and get some rest."

"I think I'll stay down here for a little bit," Miral said. "I'll be up soon."

"Well, I'm going to get back. I've got a lot to do before I can get some sleep myself."

"I'm with you." B'Elanna said. "Don't stay too long Miral.

"I won't."

As her parents went up the hall toward their quarters, Miral stepped back into the lab and watched the men move another desk out of the way, Joaquin using one hand because his other arm was too sore to do the lifting. When they set the desk down, she went up to him. "Joaquin," she said. "Can I talk to you alone for a minute?"

"Sure."

He followed her to the quieter side of the room.

"I want you to see the doctor as soon as you can about your arm. I was serious when I said I was worried about infection. Your arm is already red and swollen."

"I'll take care of it soon. I know where the doctor is, besides I think we cleaned it up pretty well. Don't you?"

"Well, we can only do so much," she remarked. "You know, I was worried about you taking that guy on alone. And you said _I_ was the insane one," she accused, thumping his chest with her knuckles. "Don't do that again without proper backup. I don't want anything to happen to you."

He took her hand and kissed those offending knuckles. "I won't," he promised.

* * *

B'Elanna suddenly stopped walking. "I have to go back for a minute."

"Why?" Tom asked.

"I need to make sure that Miral knows the combination to unlock her quarters," B'Elanna said. "You and I might be busy when she gets back."

"Busy? Hmm…I like the sound of that," he remarked. "I am tired, but after all that's happened, a good romp in the sack would do me a world of good."

"I meant that you would be doing your exercises!" B'Elanna exclaimed in exasperation. "You never finished them, and by Kahless we will get you through your therapy or so help me I'll tie you up and force you onto that transport myself and get you back to Earth where you belong!"

B'Elanna's sudden tirade surprised him, but he understood that it was stress causing her to react this way. "I was only teasing, B'Elanna," he said with a laugh. "I thought we needed some humor. I guess I was wrong. I promise I'll do the exercises as soon as I get back to the room. I know how important they are."

"Good," B'Elanna said a little calmer. She ran a finger under the twisted strap on his sling, straightening it. "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't." He kissed her and his smile came back. "Would you really tie me up?"

"Oh, I give up," She blurted, throwing her hands up. "Go on," she said gently nudging him. "I'll catch up to you."

* * *

B'Elanna got back to the lab just in time to witness Joaquin take Miral's hand and bend down for an intimate kiss. She backed out of the room and pretended she hadn't seen the exchange, but it didn't take away the truth of what she saw. So, her daughter and Chakotay's son were an item. She should have seen that one coming after all the time they had spent together in recent weeks.

Miral stepped out of the lab. "Mom," she said, startled. "I was just leaving."

"Good, then we can walk back together," B'Elanna replied. They started their long walk down the hall. "Miral, there's something you need to be aware of, and we've already told you. There's a transport coming that will take some of the colonist's from Aristarchus and get them to a safe haven. Your father and I want you to be on it."

"I know you talked about it," Miral said. "But it was still being decided, right? It's not a sure thing that I'm going is it?"

"You have to go back. You have to finish up your semester at the Academy."

Miral was silent and she bit her bottom lip.

"And there's the issue of your stowing away on the Prospect. Have you thought about that?" B'Elanna said. "You'll have to go before the board and Admiral Janeway. We're hoping you still have a slot at the academy to return to."

Miral sighed. "I know. I've been trying not to think about it."

"It's time you did think about it. You've got a lot of preparation to do before you get back."

"I want you and Dad to consider letting me stay until we can all go back together," Miral said. "I'll need you to be there with me, don't you think? To counsel me?"

B'Elanna nodded. "I want that too, but your father is determined to stay here, and we both want you to be safe."

"Mom, listen. I came a long way to be with you, and I don't take it lightly. I understand the consequences of what I did, and I don't want my coming all this way to be for nothing. I want to stay. If I go and leave you here I—well I just can't do it. I won't do it, and that's that."

"And your semester at the academy?"

"Can wait another year if it has to. I'm young, I've got time, and you know that once I start something I always finish it."

That was true. Miral was not a quitter; it wasn't in her nature to give up on something just because it was difficult. It was an admirable trait that her daughter possessed but it was a point of concern as well. If she fell into a relationship with Joaquin she may never want to leave Aristarchus.

"I just want to make sure you understand what you're getting into," B'Elanna said, "and the choices you'll have to make because of it."

"Don't worry Mom. You're daughter has a good head on her shoulders. She will make the right choices."


	30. A Little More Complicated

**T**he next morning, when Tom aroused from a sound sleep, he instinctively reached for B'Elanna to pull her warm, comforting body closer to him, but he found her side of the to be bed cold and empty. She had been gone for a while. Tom grudgingly pulled the covers up around him wondering what hour it was, but not willing to open his eyes yet to look at the time.

As he lay there though, he gradually got the feeling that he wasn't alone. Then he heard a click, followed by the doctor's voice speaking in a low tone.

_"Continuing Personal Log: I found myself thrust into this time displacement—one might say—in medias res,'' _the doctor said. "_So much is happening in this bizarre timeline, that it is hard for a hologram to even begin to straighten it all out. First, oddly enough, Lt. Paris believes he has attained the rank of commodore and is in command of his own vessel..."_

Tom's head popped off the pillow, and he rubbed his bleary eyes. The doctor had set up a small folding table in the corner and he was talking into a recording device. The recorder emitted a thin blue light that dimly deflected off every object in the room but the holographic doctor himself.

_"He has sustained traumatic bodily injury, of which I will give an account in full detail in a supplemental log entry," _the doctor stated. _"He is now in physical recovery, but as to his mental state he still has a long way to go. Although he has not yet admitted to crashing the Delta Flyer, I believe we will very soon discover where he has hidden the damaged vehicle, thus forcing a confession from him and initiating his much needed mental recovery." _The doctor paused for a moment and put a finger to his chin in thought. _"Or perhaps it is I who am in need of mental recovery. I feel as if I am of two worlds. On the one hand, I remember Voyager so vividly as if I were only onboard yesterday serving as ship's doctor, but I must reconcile the new events in this timeline with what I had once perceived to be true. For instance B'Elanna's child Miral, whom I delivered on Voyager just a few weeks ago, is now a fully-grown, intelligent young woman—It would be interesting to see if—"_

"Doc," Tom interrupted. "What are you doing?"

The doctor glanced up briefly. "I am attempting to make a log entry. Now, if you don't need anything, I would like to finish." He turned his attention back to the device in front of him. "Where was I…_when we return to Voyager—or should I say if?—, I shall brief Captain Janeway fully on the effects of this peculiar away mission on the rest of the away team—_"

"But I do need something," Tom interrupted.

"And what would that be?" The doctor replied testily.

"Privacy!" Tom exclaimed. "Why don't you go make some rounds or something?"

"Mr. Paris, like yourself, I did not ask to be placed in this situation. Who would bother to offer a hologram a choice?" The doctor complained. "No, I was thrust here from an infinitely peaceful rest in the electronic records of a starship. Never expecting to see the light of day and enjoying every minute of it." He lowered his brows. "You realize that I am not the same doctor you grew to respect and admire back on Voyager."

"Is that so?" Tom responded with a hint of sarcasm.

"Yes. The real EMH if he exists in this timeline, is back on Earth quietly sipping a holographic martini celebrating the publishing of his 9th holo-novel. Whereas, I am a replica. I am stranded on a solid rock in the middle of space attempting to eek out the best existence I possibly can with what little has been given me. In a sense, I am starting from scratch. Now I would like to finish my log entry if you don't mind." He abruptly turned back to his recorder and tried to begin his entry again.

"Did you get up on the wrong side of the emitter this morning?" Tom grumbled as he sat up.

"You forget Mr. Paris that I do not sleep. I have been roaming the halls all night. In between caring for your so called intruder and—"

"Is he awake then?" Tom interrupted.

"I have limited medical supplies here, Mr. Paris." The doctor stated. "He will recover, but in his own time. I expect he will be conscious within a few hours."

Tom climbed stiffly out of bed and slipped on a pair of pants that had lain crumpled on the floor.

"Are you going somewhere?" The doctor asked, but to Tom, it sounded more like an accusation.

"Yes." Tom answered as he fumbled single-handedly at the fastenings on his waistband. "I've slept too long, and I've got a lot to do."

"Be advised that you will have two therapy sessions from now on." The doctor warned. "One in the morning and one in the evening. Be back in an hour."

"I'm in command here." Tom reminded him. "I give the orders."

The doctor answered him with a cold and leveling glare, one that Tom wasn't sure how to counter. This doctor was off-center in the logic department, one minute he thought he was on Voyager, the next he was in the real timeline. If he wasn't confined by logic, then Tom wasn't sure how the doctor would react to Tom's reluctance as a patient.

It wouldn't hurt to err on the side of caution. Tom shrugged his shoulder. "One hour then." He slipped on a pair of shoes and grabbed a loose-fitting button down shirt and headed for the door. He paused before leaving. "I've only got one thing to say to you."

"What is that?"

"You're nuts."

* * *

When Tom closed the door to their quarters, he found his wife walking toward him from the other end of the hall.

"B'Elanna," he said with a hint of relief in his voice. "I needed you this morning. I might be on leave, but I'm still representing Starfleet in this colony. I can't do this on my own."

Her eyes lit up with that admission. "I was just about to come check on you. But you're right, I'm sorry." She said, and she kissed him lightly. She helped him ease his arm through the sleeve of his shirt. "The doctor said you needed the rest and that sleeping in would help your recovery."

"The doctor has some major systemic problems," Tom said in a hushed tone, not wanting the hologram to overhear his diagnosis. "He thinks I was injured in a crash, and he also believes I've hidden the Delta Flyer to cover my ass. Are you sure he's going to be able to help me and not make my condition any worse?"

"Don't worry about the doctor, Tom." B'Elanna said as she buttoned his shirt. "I told you it was a minor glitch. He knows what really happened to you. It's all in your medical history which we downloaded into his memory before we left Venture."

"Even so," Tom said grudgingly, "we should try to uplink from here and get a patch from B-4's records. Maybe an important info packet bounced back during the original download."

"That sounds likely." Concern crossed her face. "Where's your sling? Do you want me to go get it?"

"Last night after therapy, Doc said I can go without it for a little while. He said it might be hindering my flexibility."

B'Elanna smiled. "Well, I'd say that so far, he's been good for you."

He rubbed the back of his neck and raised his brows. "I think I'll wait for the jury on that one."

"Let's go get you some breakfast while you wait."

B'Elanna turned to go, but Tom held back. "I'm going to check on that intruder first."

She stopped. "Tom, he's unconscious. He won't be speaking to anyone for a while. Besides, your first priority is to yourself right now. How can you solve these problems if you collapse like you did on the Prospect?"

"I wish you wouldn't bring that up." He said. "But you're right. I'll grab some breakfast."

"That's better," she said as they walked down the empty hall. "No one's in the dining hall right now, so we'll have to make breakfast ourselves. But I don't mind. I want to spend some time alone with you."

"I like the sound of that," he said. If only he didn't have so much on his mind, he might actually enjoy time alone with his beautiful wife, but pressing matters couldn't be ignored. "Have you seen Miral this morning? We've got serious planning to do before she goes back to the Academy."

"She's already gone," B'Elanna replied. "She got up early to go work on a hovercraft engine with Joaquin down in the garage."

"Has anyone secured that area yet?" Tom asked, suddenly concerned. "I don't want her to be in the lower levels until we're sure it's safe."

"They've already done a security analysis of the entire subterranean level. Everything is secure," B'Elanna assured him. "She'll be fine down there. She couldn't wait to get up this morning and get to work. She grabbed a sandwich and went straight down."

"Just flew down there, huh? Never could keep her mind off a new project," Tom remarked with a grin. "She's just like her mother."

"Yes, our daughter is very intelligent."

"And stubborn."

"She gets that from you."

"I just hope she knows what she's getting herself into," he said. "She'll never want to leave Aristarchus if she's in the middle of a complicated project."

* * *

Miral swiped her greasy hands on a shop cloth. She felt at home in a garage like this one. It was a mess. Tools lay everywhere, and everything, from the floor to the ceiling, was covered in varying degrees of grease, reminding her of her own workshop back home when she and her parents built that hovercraft from a kit she'd gotten for her twelfth birthday. This hovercraft was no more sophisticated, just bigger. She turned to Joaquin and Martin who stood nearby.

"What's the verdict?" Martin asked, of all the younger colonists he had been the most eager to get the hovercraft up and running.

"The thrust propeller's worn from all the sand. It should last a little while longer, but we'll need to replace it. I had to remove this back panel to get a look at the rudders. They were gummed up with sand and grit as well. This planet is hard on engines like these, isn't it?" She smiled triumphantly. "But I think, with a few more minor adjustments and tweaks, we'll be able to give her a test drive by this afternoon."

"No kidding?" Martin said, "That's terrific. Joaquin, we have a miracle worker here."

Miral flipped up her hands at that appraisal. "Don't even say it," she said. "We'll see what happens once we warm up the engines."

"You know, I just remembered," Martin said, "I think I know where I can find another propeller. Don't we have one in the auxiliary shed?"

"Yeah, I think so," replied Joaquin. "It's behind the oil canisters in the upper storage bin."

"I'll go have a look."

Martin left in a hurry and Miral chuckled. "He's excited about getting this thing running isn't he?"

"He wants to take Cairo out for a ride."

"Cairo?" Miral elbowed Joaquin in the ribs. "I thought she was after you."

"Let's hope they hit it off, then." He slipped his arm comfortably around her waist.

She turned to him and leaned against the hovercraft's worn hood. Running a hand over his forearm, she found the skin to be warm and smooth now, with only faint semicircles where those painful bite marks had been. "I'm glad you had the doctor mend your arm. I was concerned."

"I know," he said, "and don't worry, the doctor cleared me. I don't have rabies."

"What a relief," Miral said, rolling her eyes. She glanced around the now empty garage. "So," she said slipping her hands to his waist and tugging on his shirt. "How long will Martin be gone, do you think?"

"Oh, he might be gone for a little while. Auxiliary shed's on the other side of the compound." He rested his forehead lightly against hers and firmly planted his hands on the hovercraft pinning her in on both sides. "What do you have in mind?" he said softly.

"Parking." She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans and pulled his hips against her's.

"Mmm, you'd better not be teasing now." He said as brought his arm up around her, securing his hold on her. "Because from here on out there's no turning back."

"I know…" she said and when his warm pleasurable lips pressed onto hers, she knew she would never turn back


	31. Wherever She May Be

**E**ven though Tom regretted sleeping late, B'Elanna was thankful he had. He was able to catch up on some much needed rest. An added benefit to the late breakfast they now enjoyed was that everyone else in the outpost had already eaten, so Tom and B'Elanna were able to eat in the little dining hall with no disruptions. The down time had offered them a welcome respite from the strain that had plagued them since Onari, but it was merely a stopgap.

They still had a long healing process ahead of them…for their whole family. Their daughter had a plethora of problems to contend with, which they would have to eventually sort out, but she was young and spirited. She would pull through, and perhaps be stronger afterward, but for Tom it wouldn't be so easy. Physically, he was recovering as well as they could have expected, and outwardly he put up a brave front, but under the surface B'Elanna knew he was still hurting. The last thing she wanted to do was rub salt in his wounds, but she had received a message from Onari that he needed to know about.

She had learned over the years that the best time to relate potentially hazardous news to her husband was to wait until he had a full stomach. So she allowed him to finish his meal before she dared to even mention it.

"I received a message from the embassy this morning," she finally said, as he finished up his eggs. He stopped chewing for a moment, and glanced at her with a raised brow. "From the Prime Minister's sister," she added.

"Hm." Tom popped the last forkful of eggs into his mouth. "What did she say?"

B'Elanna took a deep breath. She didn't want to bring the hurt to him again, but she saw no alternative. "She wanted to thank you for being with Nanishia in her last hours. She and her family believe you did everything within your power to bring her back to them, and she inquired about your recovery."

Tom was quiet for a moment, then he pushed his plate aside and looked at her. "Have you sent a response?" he asked.

"No, I haven't. I wanted to talk to you about it first."

"What the hell are they thanking me for?" he blurted; his mouth was drawn in a tight line. "The girl died."

"Tom, they're sincere in their gratitude," B'Elanna said. She placed a quieting hand over his. "They know what you were up against, and they don't blame you for her death. There's a personal note to you embedded inside the original message. I'd like you to take some time today and read it."

"What am I supposed to say to them, B'Elanna? 'You're very welcome'? So sorry she was killed. It was just one of those things'?"

"Be fair to yourself. It wasn't your fault Nanishia was killed. You had no weapons, no way of knowing what those terrorists were going to do with you. You were under a great deal of stress. You did the best you could possibly do under the circumstances. Why can't you see that? You don't seem to understand that you were a victim in all this too."

"You can say I was a victim, captive, hostage…it doesn't matter what my position was. As a Starfleet officer, it was my responsibility to get that girl home safely. Nanishia's dead because of decisions I made under pressure. That's a fact." He pushed away from the table and started to get up. "I've got to go."

B'Elanna grabbed his arm. "Don't run from this, Tom."

Tom sat down again and gazed intently into her eyes. He kept his voice steady, but there was still heat in his words. "You know as well as I do that this wasn't the first time someone close to me has died because of my actions. At least now I'm old enough, and wise enough not to sit around feeling sorry for myself. It's almost as if you're expecting me to, as if you don't know what to do with me because I haven't cried on your shoulder."

"I don't expect you to cry on my shoulder, but that's better than bottling all of this up inside of you," she said. "You've been through a traumatic experience, it's completely natural for you to still be shaken by it."

"I should have died that day B'Elanna! You're damned right it shook me up! I was literally torn to pieces, or don't you remember?"

"Don't you criticize me, Tom Paris!" B'Elanna warned. "How can I ever forget what happened that day, or what I saw in the transporter room when they beamed you on board? I would do anything to erase that image of you lying in a pool of your own blood, reaching out to that girl as if you could still protect her. There was so much blood… When they carried you off to sickbay, I thought you were already dead. I wanted to kill whoever had done that to you, and I still do. How dare you imply that I don't remember or don't care! I'll never be able to forget it." She folded her arms in front of her, and lifted her quavering chin, not about to give in to the simpering emotions threatening to take over.

Tom sat back and put his hand to his forehead. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, hating himself for lashing out at B'Elanna, who had been with him through it all. She meant everything to him. "God, B'Elanna. I don't know what's gotten into me." He drew a ragged breath. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said those things."

"I'd like to say I understand, but quite frankly, I don't."

"You don't have to. Listen, I know I'm not going to be around forever. The events on Onari brought that fact home to me. There's a reason why I lived through that nightmare, B'Elanna." Tom's eyes were desperate and pleading. "I'm sorry, but what I've got to do, I've got to do now, before it's too late."

"What could you possibly do here on Aristarchus by yourself that Starfleet can't?"

"Or won't?" Tom added. "I can help these people for one thing. Help them defend themselves."

"How? Harry's ship is gone, we don't know when or even if he'll return to this sector. Venture is patrolling Chartus, there's no Federation presence here but our own."

"Don't worry about that. It's all playing out. The only thing you need to do is get on that transport with Miral. Let me handle everything else."

"You're not making any sense!" B'Elanna said, but Tom got up from the table. "Sit down, Mister! We're not finished with this!"

"I'm late for therapy. I have to go see the doc," he said as he headed for the door. "I've got to get this lame arm working again."

"If you think I'm getting on that transport without you, you're crazy!"

"Then call me crazy," he said as he went out the door, "because you're leaving on that transport."

"Like hell I am," she growled. She got up to follow him out the door. "This discussion isn't over, Tom Paris! Not by a long shot!"

When they took their argument into the corridor, they found the bemused doctor walking toward them.

"Ah, that's what I missed all those years when I was resting peacefully in ship's records, the sound of you two lovebirds pecking away at each other. Now I've come full circle."

"I was on my way to see you, Doc," Tom said defensively. "You didn't have to come get me."

"I wouldn't have bothered with that, _Commodore _Paris," he said as if to humor Tom's apparent psychosis, "but the intruder is awake, and I will allow you a few minutes to question him."

"So kind of you."

"Isn't it?" the doc replied smugly. "I'll nominate myself for a commendation when we get back to Voyager." Then he added wistfully, "Wherever she may be."

* * *

Miral spent the better part of the day in the garage with Joaquin fixing up that hovercraft. He wasn't all-thumbs as he had made himself out to be. He had actually been very handy with a wrench, which brought him up a level higher in Miral's eyes, and since he was already everything she had ever wanted or dreamed of she hadn't thought that possible.

She had hoped to spend some quality time alone with Joaquin that morning, but they had been interrupted, rather rudely she believed, when Cairo 'dropped in' the garage to check on their progress. And when Martin got back with the new thrust propeller, the time came for the real work.

When the hovercraft was ready for its first test run, Martin and Cairo volunteered to take it out. They had only been gone for a few minutes, but Miral had spent so much time with the hovercraft that she felt as if she had just sent her only child out into the cruel world for the first time, and Martin would really test the craft hard. Miral couldn't wait for them to get back, with the craft hopefully still intact.

She didn't realize she had been staring at the closed garage door until Joaquin's arms came around her and he clasped his hands in front of her. She felt a tingly glow and wished they had had more time to spend alone that morning.

"Do you realize we haven't had a bite to eat since breakfast?" Joaquin said, murmured in her ear. "I'm starved."

"Such romantic things you say to me."

"Want to go up and grab some food?"

"No, I want to see what Martin has to say about the hovercraft's performance when he gets back."

"They won't be back for a while. Probably went down to surf the scarp."

"The scarp?"

"It's a huge cliff that sweeps into this bowl shaped canyon. We used to go there all the time. It's fun, but it kicks up a lot of dust."

"That would explain all the scoring on the body and the gunk in the engines."

"Yeah." he admitted. "That just might." He leaned closer and kissed her. "I'll be back. I'll bring us both something to eat."

"Okay," said Miral. She watched him leave, and felt the tingle where his lips had touched hers. If she were hungry for anything it was more of that…much more. She sighed and wondered what it would be like to live on Aristarchus and be with him.

That was only a dream; she might as well face it. She turned back to the garage door and tried to put her mind on concrete notions like flight mechanics and hovercraft engines, and not her growing love for Joaquin Diasakos.

After a few minutes, the garage door came up and the hot dry wind hit Miral's skin. She squinted at the world outside as the hovercraft coasted in. The outside air was hot, but fresh and she longed to take it out for a spin and to feel the sun and wind in her face.

Martin brought the craft in, and the garage door came down, shutting out the Aristarchan heat. The engines drowned out what he was saying to Cairo, but from the grins on their faces, the test appeared to be a success. He cut the engines off.

He tore off the goggles, and shouted. "Whoo! I think it's flying better than it ever did. What do you think, Cairo?"

"Mhmm." she nodded. Strands of her blonde, wind blown hair fell in wisps about her face. "You did a great job, Miral. Really. I'm impressed! I never thought this hunk of junk would ever fly again."

Coming from Cairo, that was a major compliment.

"There was only one small problem," she added. "The left turn was a little sluggish. Wouldn't you say, Martin?"

"No," he said slowly. "I didn't notice any difference."

"It's true. You know how it is Miral. It takes a woman to detect these sorts of things." She shook down her hair and let it bounce over her shoulders. "But don't worry about it. I'm sure it'll do just as it is."

Miral's anger started to simmer. Cairo was goading her in her small and petty sort of way, and Martin was too infatuated to notice the jibes. Miral had worked hard on this machine to get it working correctly, and she was sure that she had those rudders working perfectly. She let out a sigh and began to study the mechanism closely.

She felt a hand touch her shoulder and she looked up.

"Cairo's right. You shouldn't worry," Martin said. "The hovercraft is back in commission, and we can get to work on those field sensors tomorrow."

"You don't think it needs another test run?"

"No," he said. "Besides, it'll be getting dark soon. We wouldn't want to be out there after sundown—the dunes aren't the safest at night." He looked around. "Where's Joaquin?"

Miral straightened and took a wrench off the workbench behind her. "He went to grab us a bite to eat."

"That sounds like an excellent idea." Martin said. "Why don't we all go up and have dinner together?"

"Joaquin will be down soon," said Miral. "I'll stay here for a few minutes and see if I can make some minor adjustments."

"You sure?"

Miral nodded.

"Alright, but don't work too hard okay?" Martin said, and there was genuine concern in his eyes. "You've put in a lot of time down here already."

"I'll be fine, Martin. I told you I'm a tinkerer," she shrugged. "I like what I do."

"Alright," he turned and flung a companionable arm around Cairo. "Let's go up and eat. I'm starved!"

Miral watched them go, and she couldn't help but notice that Cairo's shoulders were a little rigid, as if having him that close to her was somehow repulsive. Cairo didn't deserve Martin. Miral knew just by her few encounters with that woman that she was too into herself to really care about anyone.

After the door closed behind them, Miral looked down at the hovercraft. She could smell the heat rising off the engines and the metal body itself. The aroma was of wind and sun and of oil. She ran a hand along the sand etched surface, and looked back at the garage door. There was only one way to find out about the rudders. Joaquin shouldn't be down for at least fifteen minutes. She could take her out for a test run in that time, and no one would ever have to know.


	32. Consequence

Joaquin's stomach grumbled as he rummaged through one of the refrigerators in the kitchen searching for that special dessert to top off lunch. Miral had worked so hard on the hovercraft and gotten it running for them in record time. She deserved something more than just the sandwich and freeze-dried peas he had managed to scrounge up. He moved aside a jug of tea and found just the thing, a replicated home-baked apple pie. Three slices left. He wondered who had made it since no one had replicated anything in months to try to save energy. There probably would be no more of this kind of food for a long time, and it was the perfect thing to reward Miral for a job well done. He reached for the tray.

"Boo!" Erin said jabbing him in the side.

Joaquin flinched and smacked his head on the upper shelf, where drink containers toppled like bowling pins.

Erin laughed. "I got you good!"

Joaquin gingerly rubbed his head. "You got me alright," he blinked and felt a knot rising on the crown of his head. "Wow, that smarts! Don't sneak up on me like that." He reached back in to the refrigerator and pulled out the tray. "You know, if you had made me drop this pie, I wouldn't be able to give you any of it."

"That's okay," she said propping her elbows up on the counter as he unwrapped the tray. "I've already had some. We were celebrating."

"Celebrating?" he asked, though he was more interested in rummaging in the cabinets for some forks.

"Ce-le-brat-ing!" she sang out. "Mama's going to have a baby! And she already knows that it's a boy."

Joaquin stopped his search. "A baby?"

"Isn't it great?" Erin said, "I've never had a little brother before. I've always wanted one. Bet you have too!"

"There you are Erin," Chakotay said as he walked into the kitchen. "I've been looking all over for you."

"Papa, I just told Joaquin about the baby," Erin announced, beaming.

"I'm sorry son," Chakotay said. "We wanted to tell you both at the same time, but Little Miss here overheard before we could find you this morning." He turned his attention to Erin. "And now, young lady. What happened to those chores you promised to do this morning? Momma's disappointed that you didn't follow through."

Erin frowned. "Oh yeah. I forgot."

"Run along then and see how fast you can do them."

"Yes Sir," she said. "Joaquin, don't tell Miral about Mama yet. Let me do it okay? I want to surprise her."

"Okay. I won't breathe a word."

With that promise, Erin hurried out of the kitchen with a song on her lips.

"She's really happy," Joaquin remarked. When he looked back at his father, he looked more bewildered than Joaquin had ever seen him. "So it's a boy?

"In seven more months," Chakotay said. "I can't believe it."

Joaquin leaned against the counter. Although he was happy about the prospective arrival, a baby might drastically change their plans. "Are we leaving then? When the transport arrives?"

Chakotay shook his head. "I don't know. Annika wants to stay, make a home out of this place. She's not afraid of anything you know. She believes we'll outlast whatever dangers are out there."

"I believe that too," replied Joaquin, but he sensed that his father knew something he didn't. "Has anything happened?"

"The intruder has given us some information that Tom and I are going to pursue tomorrow. We're going to scout out their camp early in the morning. See what we're up against."

"Can I go with you?"

"No, I'd like you to stay here, keep an eye on things while we're gone. We've got enough volunteers at this point, besides we're not going to confront them yet if we can help it. You say the hovercraft is functional?"

"Engine's purring like a kitten," said Joaquin. "Martin and Cairo took it out for a test run. They should be back by now."

"You're going back down to the garage?"

"Yes sir, in just a few minutes."

"Don't run any more tests. When you get back down there, make sure everything is locked up and secure. You and Martin check all the exits on the lower levels before you come up for the night."

"Alright."

Chakotay turned to go.

"Dad," Joaquin said.

Chakotay stopped and looked back at him in mild surprise. Joaquin usually called his father by his first name, a habit he had fallen into long ago when they had first gotten to know each other. "Son?" he replied with a grin.

"Congratulations."

* * *

When Joaquin finally got down to the garage, the hovercraft was gone and sand covered the floor where it had blown in. "Miral!" he muttered. That girl simply could not delay gratification. She just had to test it for herself. Quickly setting the box down, he ran to a heavy door that led to the outside. He unlatched it and stepped out. Even this close to twilight the Aristarchan sun still blazed hot. Shielding his eyes, he searched the horizon. Hot wind buffeted around him, whipping at his shirt, and prickly grains of sand stung at his face and arms. The landscape was desolate, with no sign of life anywhere.

His heart raced. She had never been out in the hovercraft before and had no way of knowing the dangers of the unpredictable terrain. The sands were always in motion, completely covering pits and boulders beneath innocuous looking sandbanks. Only a pilot who was knowledgeable in the topography underneath the dunes should attempt to traverse them.

He dashed back inside and grabbed a pair of binoculars that hung on a hook by the door, then he ran back out and scrambled up a small ridge. Standing at the top, he could now discern the hum of the hovercraft engines revving and decelerating at regular intervals. Miral had gone out on the dunes beyond the scarp. Joaquin couldn't catch up to her on foot if she kept heading out away from the compound, and with the sheer vastness of the sandy terrain, he couldn't tell just by listening how far away she really was.

Suddenly his eye caught a dark blip as it shot out over the edge of the scarp. He quickly put his binoculars up to his eyes. Adjusting the focus, he saw the hovercraft take a fast ninety-degree swerve down the slope toward him. Two towers of sand spewed in its wake. He'd never seen the craft maneuver like that. He marveled at Miral's ingenuity despite his disapproval of her coming out here alone.

Apparently she saw him. The hovercraft slowed and continued in his direction. Joaquin lowered the binoculars and waited for her.

The hovercraft stopped a few meters in front of him. She took off the helmet and goggles. "Did you see that?" she called out with a wide grin and there was laughter in her voice. "I thought the rudders would be sticky, but they're not now!" Dust sprinkled her face and was only clean where the goggles had been, and Joaquin couldn't help but smile.

"Come on, I'll take you down the scarp. It's great!"

"I can't believe you came out here alone. And flying the hovercraft like that," he said. "Don't you have a fear gene?"

"Cairo and Martin came out here earlier. Nothing happened to _them_."

"Martin's a little crazy, but at least he brought a phaser when he came out here, and so did Cairo."

"What do you call this?" she pulled the phaser from the clip at her hip. "A pop-gun? I may be crazy but I'm not stupid."

"Still, the dunes are no place for you to be alone, and do you know how dangerous it is to travel up that scarp? The sand is unstable. One wrong turn and you could get buried alive and no one would ever find you."

She put her hands on her hips, and gazed out over the scarp. She chewed her bottom lip as if contemplating the dangerous terrain. Then her eyes lit up and she pointed at a slope that drifted into the bowl at a lower grade. "Y'know, I think that slope looks more interesting. I wouldn't have to turn so sharply and we could see how she handles at a higher rate of speed. What do you think?"

Joaquin gaped at her. "I think you haven't heard a word I just said."

Miral took his hand. "You're sweet to worry about me, but I can handle this. Look, if it would make you feel better, come with me," she said, and she tugged his hand to lead him to the hovercraft, but he didn't budge.

"This is wrong and you know it," he said. "I can tell by that gleam in your eyes."

"We need this machine to run efficiently, so I need to run it through another test to make sure I've adjusted the rudders correctly." She shrugged and pulled the goggles back on. "Just because I'm having fun, doesn't mean I'm slacking. Let's go," she said, "I could use your opinion." She started up the engines.

Before he could think any more about it, Joaquin found himself hopping into the seat beside her and slipping on a pair of goggles that she held out to him. "I think your crazy!" He shouted over the engines' roar.

"I know!" she shouted back.

From the huge grin on her face, to the confidence she exuded in her every fluid movement at the controls he knew she was in her element, and he stopped questioning. If Miral was anything, she was a damned good pilot.

Joaquin sat back. Maybe there would be no harm in going one last time. Might as well get the best run out of it. "Floor it!"

She did, and he had no time for second thoughts as the G-forces slammed him into his seat.

* * *

Tom and B'Elanna parted ways for a while. Breathing space, she said. The unresolved argument they had had at breakfast, along with the interrogation of a potentially deadly enemy, had left her bitter and confused, and she wanted to be alone. After his therapy with the doc, Tom found himself headed toward the garage. Seeing his daughter was the only thing that would lift his spirits about now. He hadn't heard from her all day. While he walked down the silent corridors, he had time to think about the interview with the intruder from last night.

The stranger's unique dialect was from a nearby system, but still the universal translators had difficulty in the translation. That coupled with the head injury the man had received served to thwart even the best interrogative efforts. Tom had been disappointed in the outcome, but he had gathered some very important information. Apparently there was a small group of them camped out just beyond the sensors of the compound. The strangers were stranded there when they crashed their ship weeks ago. They were merely traders nothing more, awaiting a rescue ship from their own system. They stole instruments and food supplies as they needed them. That would explain why they never harmed anyone until Joaquin got into the fight with one of them. It all seemed truthful enough, which made Tom all the more suspicious. The story was too well laid out. Too clean. Just the kind of story Crevlin's group would use if they got caught.

Tom was brought out of his thoughts when he saw Martin and Cairo coming toward him. Even in the dimly lit corridor, Tom could see that they both were covered with dust.

"Evening Commodore," Martin said. "Are you headed down the garage?"

"I am."

"Sir, you should really see what Miral has done with that hovercraft. I never thought anyone could get the engines up and running as fast as she did. She's brilliant. We just did a test run and the craft glides like silk. Beautiful."

"Is Miral still down there?" Tom asked, suddenly growing suspicious. "Did she take the hovercraft out?"

"No Sir, the garage was sealed, and she was checking out the engines when we left. We tried to convince her to come up, but we just couldn't tear her away."

Cairo's eyes flickered. "Yes. We warned her about the dangers of going outside the compound. Even though there was a slight problem with the steering, I don't believe she would actually go out and test it alone…do you Martin?"

Tom knew. She would do it.

Without another word, he left them and continued at a faster pace down the corridor toward the lower levels.

* * *

At the bottom of the scarp, the hovercraft sat in shadow, and neither passenger said a word until the dust had time to settle, and there was a lot of dust. After a moment, Miral looked at Joaquin and laughed until she built up to a coughing spell.

Joaquin removed the goggles that were caked with grime and brushed off his clothes. If his appearance was anything like her's, orange-yellow dust from head to toe, then he must look pretty funny. "Dust gets pretty bad down here," he commented. "Eventually all of the sand on Aristarchus will end up in this bowl I think."

"If it hasn't already," she said, taking off her goggles and wiping the dust from her face.

He took out a small device from his pocket and scanned the area. "Well, we're alone out here. No significant life readings besides us. I figure all this noise was bound to attract some kind of attention, but if anyone was here, you probably scared them off."

"What did you think?" she asked, but continued without pause. "I think Cairo was wrong. There's no problem with the rudders."

"She's the one who put you up to this?" he said. "I knew she was jealous, but to convince you to come out here alone? I didn't think she would be so vicious. I'll set her straight all right. She won't be talking to you anymore."

"No, don't do that," Miral said quickly. "I knew what she was trying to do. Coming out here was my decision."

He gazed at her with a suspicious eye. "Don't tell me you're covering for her? After what she did?"

"I didn't listen to her. Honestly Joaquin, do you think I'm that gullible?"

He decided it best not to answer that one. "Okay, I'll spare her for the time being. I'll still watch her though."

"Watch her?" Miral replied, mouth agape. "You'll keep those eyes on me, Joaquin Diasakos—or else."

"Or else…?"

She playfully punched his arm, then squeaked when he grabbed her at the waist and moved her to his lap. She settled in with her arms comfortably draped around his neck. "Mmm. I like this," she said. She lightly brushed aside a lock of auburn hair so she could see into those beautiful brown eyes. She saw herself reflected in them and the colors of the deepening sky.

"I want you," he murmured.

"I know," she replied. She slid her hand down and cupped his chin. His lips were slightly parted, so she tipped her head closer and sampled them, warm and inviting. She wanted to stay here in his comforting embrace. She felt light as if she were floating, and the desert world was tilting…

Somehow, that wasn't right. She sat up. All around them, sand flowed like a river down the slope, sending the hovercraft down with it.

Joaquin bolted upright. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed. A gaping hole had opened up down the slope below them and the sand funneled into it like an hourglass. "Get us out of here!" he said, and Miral scrambled back into the driver's seat, as the craft tilted precariously, the back end turning and going down.

"Hold on!" she shouted and the engines roared. The craft responded instantly, shooting them up the slope and away from the mammoth sized sinkhole. She drew the vehicle to a sudden stop at the top of the scarp, sending sand showering down around them.

Breathless, Joaquin watched the hole at the bottom of the slope quickly fill up with loose sand. He swallowed and discovered that his throat was parched. "Would you look at that?" he said in awe. "We could have been buried!"

"I can't wait to get back to tell Martin and Cairo." Miral said with a laugh, apparently oblivious to the hazard. "There's nothing wrong with this baby." She patted the hovercraft lovingly. "You saw how she responded in an emergency, didn't you?"

Joaquin gazed at her in disbelief. She wasn't even sweating. "I was right, Miral," he said. "You have no fear gene."

Miral bit her bottom lip in a shallow attempt to hold back the silent giggles that shuddered through her. "You should have seen your face!"

"You think it's funny, do you?"

"Yeah, I think it's funny," she said with a sparkle of challenge in her eyes, and Joaquin remembered a time before back on Earth when he had her alone in that yellow sports car. She had worn the same expression, and her eyes had changed from a look of challenge to one of desire, and oh how he wanted her even then. But time had a way of playing against them.

Shadows were lengthening and a chill wind whipped across the dunes. Soon darkness would fall. He knew better than to keep her out past dark.

He glared at the fading sky and cursed softly.

She seemed to sense his thoughts. "We have to go back now, don't we?"

"You, Miral Paris, are one helluva temptation," he said, but then he nodded reluctantly. "We have to go back."

* * *

Dusk was falling when they got back to the garage. Joaquin activated the door, and it lifted from the sandy soil revealing by degrees the trouble that lay in front of them. Miral's heart bottomed out. There in the garage, stood a livid Tom Paris.

When Miral saw the look on her father's face, as grave as a grim reaper, all the blood drain from her's. Never had her father looked at her with such anger and disappointment. It was the precursor of her doom. She was in trouble again and she had a sinking feeling it was about their field trip outside the compound. Miral didn't know what to think—she was certain she had done nothing wrong _this_ time.

She brought the hovercraft to a stop and the garage door lowered, clanging down behind them like a death knell.

"Where in hell have you been?" Paris demanded as soon as the engine cut off.

"Out testing the hovercraft," Miral replied in a quavering voice. "I fixed it. I thought it would be okay to do a test run."

"Go upstairs," Paris demanded. "We're going to discuss this matter."

"But Dad—"

"Get back to your quarters now, Cadet, and stay there." When he drew on her rank, she knew the order was final and that there would be no explaining to him. Miral immediately turned on her heel to leave. A sob escaped her as she punched open the door and ran up the stairs.

Paris whirled on Joaquin and shot him fierce look. "You had no business taking my daughter out into that godforsaken waste! What were you thinking?"

"Sir, your daughter was never in any danger," Joaquin quickly responded instinctively trying to protect Miral in the vain attempt to calm her father. "I've been out there many times without incident."

"You have no idea what's happening out there, do you?" Paris said. "Didn't that intruder give you an indication? You and your friends have been extremely lucky to avoid trouble on these excursions of yours. But your luck will run out, and I'll be damned if my daughter will be with you when it does."

No one had ever talked to Joaquin this way, and the commodore's harsh words wounded him. Paris misunderstood his intentions and Joaquin had to set him straight.

"We weren't joy riding," he said. "She worked on this hovercraft all day. She knew it was the only one we had and she wanted to help. So when she was done, she wanted to test the engines."

"And that was just fine with you."

"She wanted to test the hovercraft, and I didn't see any harm in it. I was with her the entire time." The lie didn't set well with Joaquin, but he didn't know how to explain what happened without making the situation worse for Miral. Judging from the looks of him, Paris wasn't in the mood for explanations anyway.

"Joaquin, I'm going to level with you," said Paris with a cold, steely glare. "There are people out there who want to destroy this station and they'll take as many lives as they can in the process. The intruder last night could be one of those men. When you went out in that hovercraft, you took an unacceptable risk with my daughter's safety. It won't happen again." He turned to go.

"I love Miral," Joaquin said, and Paris paused with his hand on the door. "I would die before I let anything happen to her."

If Paris was surprised by this admission, he didn't show it. On the contrary, he leveled his gaze—cold and steady—as if Joaquin's words meant nothing to him. "My daughter is leaving Aristarchus when that transport arrives," he warned. "If you love her, stay away from her."

It wasn't a suggestion; it was a threat. Joaquin stared in disbelief until the door clicked closed and the commodore's steps echoed in the stairwell.

"Damn it," Joaquin muttered. He looked down at the hovercraft. "This is all your fault!" he snapped and gave it a swift kick. He leaned against the hood and shoved a hand through his hair.

Stay away from her? He could no more do that than stop breathing.


	33. Hidden

**I**n the three days since the hovercraft incident, Miral saw very little of Joaquin. The outworlder camp was deserted by the time the men from the compound found it. Much to their frustration, they had discovered little trace of the trespassers and their whereabouts.

Since then Miral's father had taken to exploring the vast Aristarchan terrain in search of any sign of their movements, and despite the rift that came between he and Joaquin—the younger man knew the terrain better than anyone else and offered to serve as his guide.

Miral thought this a wise move that not only would help them locate the troublesome outworlders, but it would help repair the damage to the tenuous relationship between the two most important men in her life.

And it desperately needed repairing.

Despite her father's 'request' that he stay away from Miral, Joaquin hadn't followed that directive. Before he left on their last outing, he caught her in the hall and cautioned her to be patient. "Don't worry, Miral," he said to her, his voice soft and reassuring. "Everything will work out. We're meant to be together, and one day, he'll see that."

Her father had always thought highly of Joaquin, and Miral knew he was not himself lately and was reacting from an excessive amount of stress. She wanted to believe Joaquin's words, but she couldn't hide from the one fact he could not bring himself to mention. Even if the outworlders had never existed, even if her father had not forbade him to see her, there still would be the one immovable fact that she must return to the academy, and to a life that was light-years away from Aristarchus.

She looked out the small window in her mother's quarters, but the sky was too dark and she could see nothing but a vast black landscape against a deep starry sky. "When will they be coming back?" Miral asked her mother who sat patiently on the bed with her ankles crossed, reading of all things, a Klingon romance novel. She didn't look up.

"They should be back by now, shouldn't they?" the girl insisted.

"Give them some time, Miral," her mother patiently replied. "They went out farther today, it might take a while for them to get back."

"What if they ran into trouble?"

"We can only wait."

If she didn't know her mother, Miral might believe that she didn't care what happened to them, but she was too calm…too sedate. B'Elanna's index finger tapped rhythmically on the cover of the book, and Miral noticed that her mother's jaw was set. She was indeed very worried, but put a great deal of effort into not showing it.

The communicator on the table beside B'Elanna chirped, and she glanced down at its display. "It's from Solek," she remarked with interest, but she didn't move.

"Aren't you going to answer?" Miral asked. After all their time working together on Onari, her mother knew the Commander almost as well as her father did.

"The message is encoded. Only your father can get at it," her mother replied. She frowned. "This is so frustrating! I should never have left Starfleet. I didn't know what I was giving up when I became a civilian," she slammed the book down on the bed. "That part of his life is completely shut off from me now, and I can't stand it anymore!"

The door opened then, and there he was, coated head to toe in orange-yellow dust.

"Speak of the devil, here's your father now."

"We didn't find anything," Tom said as if B'Elanna had asked him that very question. "I'm beginning to thing those outworlders have completely abandoned this planet. I'll have to make sure our intruder knows just how loyal his comrades are." He wiped dust from his face and gazed in a small mirror on the wall. "How did you recognize me when I walked in?"

"Dad, is Joaquin back?" Miral asked.

Tom nodded and with a wry smile, he said, "Go see him."

Miral kissed his dusty cheek. "Thank you Daddy," she said, and she hurried out the door.

"That boy does love her. He makes sure I know that every time we go out." Tom plopped down on the bed exhausted. Dust went up in a small cloud around him and B'Elanna cringed.

"Look at you, Tom," she said with a sigh of exasperation. "You're filthy. You look like you were dragged behind that hovercraft instead of riding in it."

"And you're just as beautiful as always."

She harrumphed and crossed her arms. "Flattery has earned you a reprieve. Go get cleaned up. I'll tell the doctor you're back."

"Where is he? Usually he's the first person I see."

"He's with Seven, planning her diet for the next seven months."

"Ah," Tom said with a grimace, meant to be a smile. He sat up and pulled off a dusty shoe.

"You received a message from Solek while you were gone." she said, watching him closely.

Tom paused for a nanosecond then he laid the shoe gently on the floor. "How long ago?" He gave her a casual glance, but she knew by his initial reaction that the message concerned him.

"Only a few moments before you walked in," she said, "I'll go get the doctor so you can retrieve the message in privacy, but there's one thing I need to say before I go."

He gazed at her with eyebrows raised.

"Don't shut me out," she said. "You asked me to support you. I'm doing the best I can, but you need to trust me like you used to. Don't let what happened to us come between us."

"B'Elanna…"

He looked exhausted, a state he was always in these days. Was he trying to kill himself? Empathy for her husband almost made her back off, but this was too important to be left unsaid. "Am I no longer trustworthy?"

He went back to removing his other shoe, avoiding her eyes. "It's not that."

"What's in that message, Tom?" she asked. "Are you in the middle of something that I won't approve of? That I wouldn't support if I knew everything about it?"

Tom sat in silence, elbow on his knee, and head in his hand. His other arm, too weak to move hung awkwardly at his side. He whispered a low curse that seemed to come from a dark place deep within him. "Don't press me, B'Elanna."

She had hit on it, and damn it, if she wanted to cry in frustration. "I have no idea what you're doing, Tom. I won't pretend I do," she said, "you're still hurting, I know. That's why you won't stay put for anything but sleep, and why you work yourself until you can barely stand. But your family still needs you." B'Elanna made no move to comfort him. "_I _still need you. You must find the courage to trust me again or-"

He straightened. "Or what?" he said. His eyes flashed, reflecting a twisted blend of frustration and pain. "The worst you could do to me is leave me, and that's what I've been trying to get you to do—leave while you can and take Miral with you. Don't you see how important this is? You know what we're up against. You were in that banquet hall, B'Elanna. If Solek hadn't been there with you when I—when I wasn't able to…" His voice caught and he looked away. "You could have been killed, and that's something I can _never_ forgive."

B'Elanna stared at him. They had been so concerned about his recovery and about his well being that they had hardly touched on what had happened to her. Was it Crevlin who he couldn't forgive, or himself?

"Tom…"

"That message is vital to my mission here," he said, shutting her off as if allowing her to speak would weaken him more. "Like it or not, I'm still a Starfleet Commodore. There are some things I have to do that I can't share with you, that's just the way it is. I know I'm asking a lot of you, and I don't expect you to understand what I'm doing. Right now, that's strictly between Solek and me. Please don't get in the way."

Suddenly, B'Elanna realized how desperate the situation could become on Aristarchus, and Tom would reveal nothing. Would Crevlin really attack this little outpost?

"How many colonist's will be in the way?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"None!" he replied hotly. "None if I can help it."


	34. The Romulan Incident

**W**hen B'Elanna returned to her quarters with the doctor, she found Tom in a darker mood than the one he was in before she left him, and it only worsened with the therapy. Tom didn't say much to either of them. He just sullenly complied with one-word acknowledgements to the doctor's questions and requests. The doctor always pushed Tom to his physical limit during these sessions, and the exercises still hurt him, but he didn't even acknowledge the pain this time. B'Elanna believed his poor disposition had something to do with the message from Solek.

"You have marked improvement in the range of motion in your shoulder. That's good," the doctor said when they finished up. "However, your hand is still weak. You will need to get more rest if that is at all possible."

"Sure," Tom said.

"You may have to go back to keeping that arm in a sling if you don't."

Tom nodded. His mind was elsewhere.

B'Elanna spoke for him. "Thank you doctor. I'll see to it that he gets some rest."

The doctor looked at her with a cynical eye, as if he knew that would be an impossible task. "Good luck," he said in his peculiar deadpan manner.

"Thanks," she said with a frown. How could she ever do this if the doctor gave up too?

The doctor picked up his bag. "I will return at 0700," he said, and then he left them.

Tom pushed his hand through his hair, and remained seated on the edge of the bed with his head bent. His back was to B'Elanna, so she couldn't see his face. She wanted desperately to ask him what was on his mind, but she decided to wait. Maybe he needed to get it straight in his own mind first.

He was still sitting there after she had changed into a soft cotton tee and gotten ready for bed. She sat beside him. "You look a lot better without that layer of dust," she remarked. "You look like my husband again." She rested her chin on his shoulder, "You even smell nice. Like soap."

"You're funny," he said, but he sounded removed, as if he hadn't really heard her.

"Come to bed now. Get some rest," she said. "Doctor's orders."

Sleeping in a shirt irritated his shoulder so she helped him remove his t-shirt and he slipped into bed beside her with just his boxers. She turned off the light and adjusted his pillow and pulled up his covers.

His hand found hers there in the dark, and they lay quietly for a long while. He stroked her palm, and she closed her eyes to her husband's gentle touch. She had missed his attentions and didn't want it to end, but then lifted his hand, holding it up in the dim moonlight that shone through the tiny window of their room.

He slowly bent his fingers, touching each in turn to his thumb. "I'm getting better at this," he remarked quietly. "But I still can't get it to feel the way it used to." He sighed and rubbed his fingers and thumb together. "Pins and needles. Why couldn't B-4 just give me a damned android hand and save me all this trouble?"

"He said your true hand was better than anything they could create," she replied. She understood very well what he meant. He was crippled—indefinitely—and he could find no comfort in that fact.

Regret twisted like a snake in the pit of her stomach. She had worked with that despicable Crevlin at the embassy. If only there had been some warning before the banquet, if she had stayed close to Tom that evening, all of this might never have happened, and they would be home now enjoying the lives they had led before. She moved closer to her husband, draped her arm across his chest, and laid her head on his shoulder. "B-4 wanted you to have every possible advantage."

"I can't aim a phaser with this hand," he said. "How's that an advantage?"

"You're improving every day, Tom. Give yourself time."

"We don't have time." His left arm curled around her shoulder, and he drew her in closely.

B'Elanna closed her eyes and tried to imagine their quiet home nestled in the California Redwoods. She imagined if she lay here long enough she would open her eyes and find this all to be just some terrible nightmare.

"You were right," Tom said after a while.

"About what?"

"About your needing to know," he said. "I've kept you in the dark, and I'm very sorry for that."

B'Elanna lifted her head and gazed at him. The thin blue moonlight gently caressed his face, smoothing fine lines, and he looked young again. This man wasn't so different from that hotshot pilot she married years ago. Tom was just over burdened and even though she was by his side, she knew he was somehow very lonely too. If only she could break through the tough defenses he'd built around himself.

He stared at the ceiling, avoiding her eyes. It shouldn't have come to this. Now more than ever, they needed to be one, face their trials together no matter how terrible they promised to be. So much of the burden rested on his shoulders. The safety of the colony, his friends, his family…all of this he had carried alone. Maybe now he would finally allow her to lighten his burden.

"Will you tell me, so I can help you?" She rolled onto her stomach and playfully nudged him. "Lean on me baby," she said.

Even in the dark, she saw his gentle smile. She thought of other nights when their lives were more carefree. She smiled in return and kissed him.

"I love you," he said.

She brushed her thumb over his temple. "You can you know—lean on me."

He pulled her close again and kissed her softly. "You're my life, B'Elanna," he said. "I can't bear the thought of losing you."

"You won't," she said. "We'll take care of each other."

Tom sighed, an outward sign of the rift that had widened between them since the terrible ordeal on Onari. B'Elanna held him closely; the beat of his heart was steady and reassuring.

He drew a deep breath. "You remember years ago, when I first took command of Venture."

"Mm-hmm."

"Three months into my first mission, we discovered that limping freighter in the middle of the biggest ion storm in centuries." Tom's voice grew distant as he remembered. "Their ship was falling apart, they had no power…not even impulse. We had to go in and get those people out or they would die."

"The rescue was in the news for weeks." B'Elanna said. "The Venture's new captain was a Federation hero. We were very proud of you."

"Yeah. We saved all those people."

"One hundred sixty-seven, they said."

Tom was silent for a moment, and he gently squeezed her shoulders. "When the last of the freighter's crew were safely on board, we celebrated. Patted each other on the back for a job well-done."

B'Elanna didn't understand the bitterness in his voice. "You risked your own vessel to save them. Not every captain would do that."

"It was a huge risk. I'm not denying that, but you're missing some of the facts, B'Elanna. If I'm going to be honest with you about everything, then you'll have to understand what really happened with that freighter."

Her interest was piqued. How could that freighter have anything to do with what they were now going through? Tell me," she said. "Don't hold anything back."

**_- Nine Years Ago –_**

On his way to join some of the freighter's rescued crew on the observation deck, Tom met one of his senior officers in the corridor. "Sir, we have completed the scans of the freighter, and we were right. There were blast points on the hull," the lieutenant reported. He handed a PADD to Tom. "The blasts weren't bad enough to cause critical damage," he continued, "but they clearly indicate that the freighter has been through a recent skirmish."

Tom studied the report. "With whom, Lieutenant? Were you able to discern that from the markings?"

"Romulans, sir. These markings could only have come from a Warbird."

"Thank you Lieutenant. I have all the information I need."

"Aye, Sir."

Tom continued down the corridor toward the sound of merriment down the hall. The observation deck, with its small credit bar was the destination of choice for the freighter's crew some of whom seemed to need a stiff drink after what they had been through.

"Captain!" said Holloway in a booming voice. The freighter's captain was a large and boisterous fellow who had taken to slapping Tom on the back whenever he saw him. "Gentlemen, now enters into our midst a true hero. I think we should all raise our glasses to the one man whose courage brought us all to safety and to a very fine collection of ale I might add." Cheers went up as all raised their mugs to the toast.

Tom waited patiently for the revelry to settle down, their crew had been near death. He understood their need to celebrate, but he would soon have to put a stop to their rejoicing.

"Captain Holloway," he said. "I need to speak with you in private. It's about your vessel."

"That piece of shi—oh pardon me. You mean that junk heap floating in space? Leave it. It's worthless now. Company insurance will cover the whole lot." He slapped Tom's shoulder. "So don't worry about it." The man stumbled and kicked back the rest of his drink.

"Step outside with me, Captain. This is very important."

Tom immediately went to the bar, giving Holloway no chance to protest. He rapped his knuckles on the counter and the bartender glanced up from the tap. "You're closed for the night, Bill," Tom said.

The bartender glanced around the room and nodded. "Aye, Captain."

Holloway set his empty glass on the counter. "Aw, you're spoiling everything."

Tom put a hand on Holloway's shoulder and led him out into the corridor. When they were alone, Tom turned to him. "Is there something you want to report about your ship?"

"There's really nothing to tell, Captain. It needed to be impounded anyway, and the freight is just useless ore we were taking to salvage. That garbage can sit out there for thousands of years for all I care. No one will ever need to know."

"We've been reviewing your logs." Tom insisted. "They're incomplete."

"Probably interference from that storm," Holloway said. "It's nothing to be alarmed about I assure you."

"Captain, you deliberately left out vital information in your records. You must know that this is a federation offense, and it carries with it a prison sentence."

Holloway glared at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm giving you a chance to tell me here and now about your confrontation with that Romulan ship."

All traces of mirth left Holloway's face. "Don't push this, Captain. If you go digging into what doesn't concern you, you'll only hurt my people even more than they already have been. They have homes and families. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

A security guard came down the hall toward them.

Tom gestured for the officer to stop. "Ensign wait here," he said, then he turned back to Holloway. "Tell me what's really on that ship. Only a fool would get himself caught in an ion storm of that magnitude." Tom looked him up and down. "You don't look like a fool to me. Were you smuggling? You were close to the neutral zone—"

"It's nothing Captain!" Holloway bellowed. "Nothing! Just a shitload of ore. That's all."

"Then it wouldn't matter to you if I send a team to your vessel and see for ourselves?"

Holloway's eyes went cold. "That storm will kill anyone who goes back there," he warned. "The hull is shot. It's too late. Let it lie."

Tom glanced at the security officer. "Lock him up."

"What? This is outrageous!" shouted Holloway. "On what charge?"

"Drunk and disorderly conduct."

"You're begging for trouble, Captain!" Holloway exclaimed as he was taken away. "Somebody's gonna die. It might just be you!"

If Holloway caused him any more trouble, Tom would consider adding threatening a Starfleet officer to the list of charges.

Someone would have to go down to that freighter. He couldn't order his own crewmen into that hazardous situation on just a suspicion. He would have to take volunteers and personally lead them down there.

* * *

Tom adjusted the hood on his environmental suit; the visor severely limited his visual range. "Stay sharp, and watch each other," he said to his two recruits, Parks and Zapata.

"What exactly are we looking for, sir?" Zapata asked.

"People."

They were in the cargo bay of the massive freighter, and Tom could now see that to really search this place would take days. The bay was as big as a stadium and filled with shipping containers of all sizes. They would search the largest containers first then as they had time, work their way to smaller ones. They would never be able to go through them all; Tom hoped that his intuition would lead them down the right path.

After searching for nearly an hour, Tom came to the last large container in the bay as Parks and Zapata began to search another nearby. Tom unlatched the heavy metal door and shone the light into its deep recesses. Nothing but crates and rocks scattered the floor. Through his suit's air filters, he detected the faint odor of death.

Tom ventured into the blackness. As he advanced, he began to see forms…bodies scattered along the floor. Tom hit his combadge. "Parks, report to—"

A hard object slammed into the side of his head sending Tom stumbling into a crate. Blue sparks darted in his vision and he saw the assailant come at him again. He was wielding a hammer. Tom dove to the side as phaser fire hit his attacker in the chest.

"Are you alright, sir?" Parks said when he came up to him.

"Yeah," Tom said, though his head hurt like hell.

Zappatta joined them and pulled out a tricorder to scan the bodies. "They're dead. All of them, except this boy." Zapatta bent over the boy and ran another scan. "He has radiation poisoning, sir, and he's dehydrated and that stun didn't help his condition either. He'll die if we don't get him to sickbay."

"Parks, contact the ship. Tell them to prepare for transport."

"Aye sir."

Tom put his hand over his ear where the boy had clouted him. He found no tear in the suit, but the warmth of blood trickled down his neck. The boy lay unconscious on the floor; he couldn't be more than twelve years old. He must have been scared to death being locked in this container with these bodies.

They were clearly Romulans, probably seeking political refuge within Federation borders. How desperate they must have been to smuggle themselves through the Neutral Zone inside a sealed ore container. Anger welled-up inside Tom. This atrocity couldn't go unpunished. It was a good thing that Holloway was already locked up. Tom would personally strangle the man if he got his hands on him.

"Let's get him out of here."

* * *

"We did two more searches of that freighter, but we didn't find any more survivors. The boy was the only one."

"Oh Tom," B'Elanna murmured, "I never knew."

"No one knew but a few who had to, and it's not something I want to remember, much less talk about."

"What happened to the boy?"

"He spent a week in sickbay. He begged me not to send him back to Romulus. He was nothing there, he had no family to go to, they had died on that freighter, and he would have been considered a traitor for leaving Romulan territory. He would end up killed or on the streets, begging for his very existence. After what he'd been through, I couldn't leave him to that kind of fate. I contacted Tuvok's family on Vulcan, and they agreed to take him and teach him in the Vulcan ways."

"And Holloway…"

"Was never formally charged. The Federation didn't want the story to leak, didn't want an interstellar incident with the Romulans so they let him go."

"And Solek…" B'Elanna ventured. "He's remained loyal to you all these years."

"He has," Tom said quietly. "He requested my command when he graduated the academy. His record was exemplary."

"You would trust him with your life?"

"I already have. He stayed with you on Onari, didn't he? He kept you safe."

"He did." She remembered how he had obtained that old model protoplaser in the hospital when no one else could, and how he had wrangled that vehicle from that driver in the deserted streets of Onari, and she remembered Solek's determination and his promise to her when Tom had been found critically injured.

_"I promise you, Ambassador. I will find him. He will be brought to justice."_

Now she understood Solek's words and his grim resolve to bring justice to fruition. She looked her husband in the eye.

"What has Solek done?"


	35. After Tonight

**"W**hat has Solek done?" B'Elanna's question hung between them for a moment and she wondered if Tom would simply refuse to answer. He couldn't stop now, not after revealing so much about the freighter and Solek's past. They were just breaking the surface.

"Not all Romulans are in agreement with protecting Crevlin and his people." He finally said. "There is a fringe group—a large one-that doesn't want this incident to escalate into an all out war with the Federation. They want Crevlin out of their territory as much as we do."

"_'We'_ as in you and Solek? Solek can't do anything. He's with Venture, patrolling Chartus isn't he?"

"Venture is patrolling Chartus," Tom corrected. "Solek is…pursuing an avenue that Starfleet didn't consider."

B'Elanna sat up, agitated. "What is he doing?" she demanded, trying not to raise her voice. "Is it illegal?"

She hadn't really believed her husband would be so desperate as to approve a mission that was against Starfleet directives, but Tom's subsequent silence revealed the harrowing truth.

"Oh, Tom. What have you gotten yourself into?"

He threw the covers off and sat up. He dropped his feet over the side of the bed and pushed a hand through his hair. "B'Elanna," he began, but then stopped and shook his head.

"You said you would tell me everything." She couldn't keep the edge out of her voice. "Damn it Tom. Give it to me. Here and now so I can at least make some sense out of this!"

"Starfleet has cut off all trade and travel routes to this sector," Tom said quickly. "That's one bit of information Solek had for me in that message. The transport I counted on may not be coming after all." He grabbed his shirt off the floor. "My family, my friends…everyone I hold dear is stranded here on this godforsaken planet. I have nothing to lose if I go after Crevlin and everything to lose if I fail. I have to do everything in my power to stop that criminal in his tracks before he kills again. Solek sought out those Romulans who want Crevlin out of their territory. He understands them; he was one of them once. He's doing this for us, B'Elanna." He slowly eased the shirt over his head, his breath caught once with the pain his movements caused.

B'Elanna suppressed the urge to help him. "You're taking advantage of his loyalty," she said. "You would let him risk prison? Even his life for the sake of your revenge?"

Tom paused a second before straightening his shirt, then he turned, and gazed at her for one long, penetrating moment. His eyes were bright, and carried no trace of the fatigue he experienced only a short while ago. "B'Elanna, sometimes a man has to chose his own course," he said. "He has to forsake rules and regulations to do what he knows is right in his heart. That's what Solek is doing. That's what I'm doing."

"And hang Starfleet?" B'Elanna inserted.

"If they stand in the way of justice, yes." He got up and continued to dress.

"I can't believe what I'm hearing. Will you listen to yourself?" she pleaded. "You're letting your desire for vengeance consume you. Please reconsider what you're doing. Call Solek back to Venture."

"No. Solek is doing this of his own free will. I'm not going to stand in his way."

"You're his commanding officer. Pull him back!" she said. "For godsake Tom! What has happened to you—"

She stopped, but the damage was done. The pain she had so carelessly inflicted on him was incalculable, but she glimpsed it in his face and heard it in his trembling voice when he spoke.

"If you don't know that by now, B'Elanna," he said. "Then nothing I say will make a damn bit of difference."

He picked up a jacket, crossed the room, and went out the door.

* * *

B'Elanna didn't follow him, which was just as well. Sometimes they were better off parting ways for a while when they so hotly disagreed with each other. Kept them from taking the argument where others could hear, and kept valuable objects from smashing against walls.

Tom needed her to understand and had dreaded revealing secrets he had kept to himself for so long. He hadn't wanted to burden her, but the burden of not telling had been far greater. He hoped she would one day forgive him.

He went outside, into the chill of the night. Somehow the thought of being under the same roof with the very people he would strive hard to defend had become a heavy weight on his shoulders.

Tomorrow, he would have the same kind of talk with all of the colony's inhabitants that he had had with his wife. Sorry folks, no transport. No way out. We're in this for the long haul. There was simply no way to spin the fact that their lives were worth so little to the brass at Starfleet. He even wondered if his follow-up message to Command would arrive at all, so many relays between Aristarchus and home.

He scanned the horizon as had become his habit of late. The two Aristarchan moons shone bright enough to highlight the landscape in a faint blue haze. He didn't expect to find anything out there this time. The outworlders had either retreated to a camp much farther away than he had originally anticipated, or they had left the planet altogether.

There was of course still the prisoner, though he had been just as surprised as Tom had been that no traces of his comrades were found, and now he was just another mouth to feed.

Tom found an abandoned metal crate that came almost up to his shoulder and stretched his good arm across the top resting his head in his hand. Closing his eyes, he just concentrated on the fresh cool air that smelled faintly of dew. He flexed his injured arm, which had become tight and sore with the cold.

Fatigue was edging back into his body again. All he wanted to do now was go to bed with B'Elanna and simply be with her. The way they had been together before Onari. The way they were meant to be together with no secrets between them, but that time was gone for good. There was no turning back.

The sound of giggles floated up to him, and he looked over his shoulder. His daughter had just come out with Joaquin. _Probably think they're alone out here,_ he thought._ Oh, God_. He had better make his presence known before he witnessed something a father shouldn't. Why did they have to pick such an inconvenient time to fall in love?

He lightly kicked the side of the crate with his foot; the resulting sound was loud and hollow and quite effective. The giggles stopped, but he didn't look at them. He kept his gaze forward on the landscape, and hoped they were prudent enough to get the hint.

A few murmured words and then silence.

Tom sighed.

After a pause, Miral's timid voice floated to him over the darkness. "Dad?" she said. "What are you doing out here?"

If he kept his eyes closed, he could almost believe she was still his little girl and not the independent young woman he knew she had become.

"Just thinking," he said and he looked back. Miral was now alone.

She came up beside him, and gazed up at the black sky. There were no stars, only the moons. When she spoke, her voice was soft and reverent. "They used to be one body a long time ago, like Earth's moon. Beautiful and nearly perfect," she said. "Until some catastrophic event tore them apart. Now they just revolve around each other, stay near each other, but they'll never actually touch again." She looked up at him. "Kind of sad don't you think?"

Was Miral playing psychologist now? He looked up at the moons. They were two less than perfect bodies distinct and apart, just like B'Elanna and he had become. "Where did you learn all that?" he asked.

"Joaquin told me, and I thought you needed to know."

"Ah." His daughter was indeed psychoanalyzing him, but he didn't mind.

"Do you love him?" he asked after a moment.

"I do," she said with a shy smile. "And he loves me."

He smiled down at her and lifted his hand to touch her hair. "Whatever happened to my little girl? No more pigtails."

"Oh Daddy," she said. "I'll always be your little girl. Nothing can take that away." She took his injured hand and her eyes widened. "You're hand is like ice! Let's go in. It's getting too cold for you out here."

Tom complied but he followed slowly, still not sure of the way B'Elanna might welcome him back. He hoped for the best and he longed for her support, because after tonight, there would be no time to argue, no time to make amends, and no time for regrets...

After tonight they would only have time to prepare for battle.


	36. Dealings

**T**he heavy odor of sweat and ale permeated the thick atmosphere in a dank and dirty Romulan saloon. From his cramped booth in an isolated corner, Solek, first officer of the USS Venture, watched the comings and goings of the clientele with keen interest.

The patrons that frequented this establishment were a filthy and foul-mouthed lot, most of whom had just shuffled in from long shifts in the dilithium mines that were so populous on Remus.

Small, dim lights hovered discretely in the center isles, well away from alcoves and corner tables—no doubt to preserve the anonymity of certain members of the clientele whose faces were hidden in the darkness and who could very well be watching _him_. Solek imagined that more than a few sordid dealings and treacherous plots had been hatched in this seedy black hole of a bar.

Under normal circumstances, Solek wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this—his strict Vulcan teachings would not condone it—and he considered himself a true Vulcan now, having spent his better years on Vulcan and serving the Federation.

The Vulcan's had saved him from a life that would have only led him down a sordid path to a violent end, and under normal circumstances, he dared not dishonor them by reverting back to his old Romulan ways.

Rarely did he allow himself to relax his austere composure, however in this place, so immersed in the culture he had once shunned and drew out of his body like the poison it was, he found that he could still easily blend and interact with Romulans as if he had never left. Under ordinary circumstances, he would find this discovery to be disconcerting to say the least, but these were no ordinary circumstances. Someone had tried to murder his former captain . . . his _friend_. The time had come for Solek to reconnect with his former ways…and to take a little vengeance.

He glanced furtively up at the lengthy bar situated near the crowded entrance. Lt. Verdi, dressed in a similar fashion as he, in a loose fitting cloak with dirt smudged on her face, was conversing with a Romulan woman nearly twice her age and girth. Judging by the apparent ease of their conversation, Verdi fit in well. Her disguise was a testament to B-4's brilliant handiwork. The tapered ears and slanted brows gave her smooth dark face a keen and warrior-like visage. She just might get out alive.

She caught his gaze and shook her head slightly. Still no sign of the man they had come to meet. Solek turned his gaze to the drink in front of him and considered his options.

Perhaps their contact had been captured. The likelihood of the Tal Shiar discovering their rendezvous was very real and would have horrendous consequences for all of them. If Verdi and he were captured in Romulan territory, the Federation would suffer scandal of disastrous proportions. Then of course there was the Tal Shiar's legendarily brutal treatment of its political prisoners, many of whom chose death as their only means of escape. Solek did not consider their capture a viable option, especially where Verdi was concerned.

Verdi had no qualms about this mission. She was an exceptional woman and one whom he prized greatly as a lover and friend. When he confided his plan to her, she insisted in coming along in case he came to trouble. As much as he wanted her to remain behind on Venture, he could not refuse her. Her first assignment had been in security, with her skills as a fighter and her keen sense of observation, she would be an asset in this endeavor. Verdi was loyal to him and above all…she loved him, and that was something he still could not understand.

* * *

Solek's gaze was drawn to a couple who had just entered the establishment and had apparently already visited all of the other bars on this bawdry stretch of road outside the mines—they'd had a bit too much to drink. Or so it would appear to the untrained eye. Solek's Vulcan education had given him an advantage. Even though they appeared to be inebriated, he could sense their unease.

They staggered by his table and the male unceremoniously slumped down into the bench across the table from him.

"This is the only place to sit, comrade," he said. "You don't mind if I stay here for a moment to catch my breath? I just lost a fortune at the tables down the hall and I must stay clear of them for the rest of the night."

"That is not my concern," replied Solek in a threatening tone.

The man plopped a latinum square on the table. "For your trouble."

Solek glanced at the coin and slowly looked into the man's bloodshot eyes. "You take me for a Reman, sir. You insult me and then expect me to accept this mere coin as recompense?"

The other man smiled keenly and held a dangerous glint in his eye as he slapped down two more. "We are even now, my _friend._"

Solek pocketed the coins and the man nodded curtly to his accomplice. The woman gave Solek a stern once over and left them alone.

Contact having been established, the brusque man spoke in a low voice. "You risk much, Vulcan. The eyes and ears of the Tal Shiar are everywhere."

"The risk is even greater for you, who would be considered a traitor to the empire," Solek replied. "But we are not here to speak of our motives."

"Yes, then to the business at hand. Your man, this Crevlin…is vile. He has no courage. He is using the generosity of our great Praetor to keep his skin safe in Romulan territory. It is most disgraceful," the man said. His brows furrowed into deep ridges on his forehead, but he spoke evenly. "My benefactor, he sees the humiliation from the Romulan peoples' eyes. He wants that scum dead. Is this something you can accommodate, Vulcan, or does this request fly in the face of your 'logical' ideals?"

The question gave Solek pause. His primary reason for going after Crevlin had been for vengeance. That motivation had been the driving force behind his actions ever since the terrible day on Onari when the Banquet Hall fell down around him. Long ago, Captain Paris risked everything for a boy, a Romulan stowaway who had no name. He owed Paris his life. Solek never questioned that the course on which he now moved was the right one, but he could hardly call it logical.

"Sir, Vulcan's believe in the logic of justice. This is all I seek."

"You lie. This is personal for you. I see it in your eyes," the man said shrewdly. "It would be convenient to have someone such as yourself perform this service for us. My benefactor has great ambition. It would not bode well for him to be connected to this deed. Strangely, he has great confidence in you, though I personally do not trust a Vulcan whose logic is fuelled by emotion. I shall keep my eye on you." He shifted back. "If this is a Federation ploy, a trick, to undermine his political objectives, then I will make sure that you," He gestured to Verdi's place at the bar. "And your friend, become well acquainted with the Tal Shiar."

Solek did not glance at Verdi. He had experienced her skills in self-defense first hand in the Venture's holodeck training programs. He was confident that she could hold her own. Instead, he focused on presenting cool resolve. "Threats are neither necessary nor prudent, sir, since Crevlin's downfall will be mutually beneficial. Now, do you have the information I seek, or is my faith in your honor misplaced?"

The Romulan glowered, and after a moment's hesitation, he retrieved a package from the pocket of his tatty cloak. "In this packet you will find a memory chip which will give you Crevlin's last reported whereabouts. He does not sit still, this man. Likely by the time you retrieve this information, he will have moved on to another hiding place. At the moment, this is the best we can give you. Also, you will find a pass key to the storage facility in hangar nine." Then he added with a hint of repugnance, "where you will find the _rest_ of your provisions."

Solek took the packet and slipped it surreptitiously into his pocket and without another word, he slid casually out of his seat at the corner table, leaving the Romulan alone to brood about the deal he had just made. He briefly caught Verdi's eye and nodded. She would follow him out when the time was right. As Solek made his way through the crowd and to the doors, the thought occurred to him that beating Crevlin at his game could prove to be more difficult than he had anticipated.

The news that Crevlin had not remained in his sanctuary in that small bit of Romulan territory near the Onari sector had not come as a surprise to him. Solek had expected as much. But time was still on Crevlin's side and he very well could be making his move against his next target. If Crevlin desired to make his presence felt again near Onari, a hit against the Federation, at the outpost on Aristarchus would fulfill this need.

* * *

Aristarchan sun shone particularly bright this morning, sapping the ground of every last drop of dew. This would be an extremely hot and eventful day. B'Elanna hoped it would also be a productive one.

They had been able to get through to Admiral Janeway over the subspace relays and the Admiral had assured them she would do what she could to get those who wished to leave, transportation off Aristarchus. She would contact them when she had procured a transport for them. As hopeful as that sounded, B'Elanna wasn't holding her breath. In order to get a transport, Janeway would have to convince the man in charge of security in the Onari sector, Commodore Preston of their dire need. Not an easy task considering that Starfleet—especially Preston—believed they had the situation well under control. He would not release security restrictions unless he had good reason.

B'Elanna sat in the shade of a storage shed outside the compound watching her husband. He stood on the edge of a short rise and studied the sky through a pair of binoculars. He had been waiting here for his first officer to arrive ever since sunrise when Solek had first contacted them. Tom had been in a nervous state of unease ever since he found out about Solek's trek to Remus, which is nestled at the very center of Romulan territory. Tom had not expected him to go that far and he was worried that Solek had been waylaid on his way here.

It would be no easy task getting through the neutral zone. If he were caught, the repercussions would be catastrophic not only for Solek, but for the Paris family as well. Tom could end up in prison for he rest of his life. The very thought twisted B'Elanna's stomach into knots, and she had not mentioned this possibility to him for fear it would drive a deeper wedge between them. This was the most terrible situation she could ever imagine, but she had no choice but to support him and try to believe he was right.

"Come and sit in the shade Tom," B'Elanna called to him. "It's too hot for you to be standing out there so long. He'll come."

Tom lowered his binoculars and walked toward the shed. He sat down on a crate beside her and swiped the sweat from his forehead.

"You need a hat," she remarked. "You're getting sunburned." She handed him a bottled water.

"I know." He took a long drink and raised he binoculars to his eyes again.

"He'll come," she said again, and she took his injured hand. "He has to."

Tom squeezed her hand, and she was surprised at the strength of his grip. "You're getting stronger."

"I feel stronger today," he said. "Though still not strong enough." He lowered the binoculars and looked over at her. "You're right. He'll come whether I'm out here or not. Maybe we ought to go in."

"Sounds like an excellent idea to me." She started to get up, but he gripped her hand again, stopping her.

"B'Elanna…I haven't always made the right choices in my life. Only time will tell about the decisions I've made here. Whether they're right or wrong, I'm sorry you're caught up in them."

"Tom, for better or worse, I'm with you. I'm going to make the best of things," she said. "I won't back away from this no matter what happens." She gazed into his blue eyes for a moment. They were bloodshot from the hot wind and his face was so burnt that he looked almost feverish. She put the back of her hand against his forehead. "You're hot," she said. "Let's go inside. I don't want you to get heat stroke on top of everything else."

"Wait a minute," Tom said and he stood up quickly, a smile spreading across his face. "He's here. Look."

He pointed at a small pin sized streak of white that marred the clear blue sky. "Damn him," he said with a laugh. He gazed through the binoculars again. "It's Romulan. The ship is Romulan."

"Could he be more obvious?" B'Elanna remarked. "You sure it's him?"

"I'm sure," Tom said as he once again walked out into the sun and waited for the ship to land.


	37. cargo

**S**olek had landed his strange little Romulan craft so far from the facilities that Tom and B'Elanna had to use their only transportation—the hovercraft—and fly out to meet him. Riding in that thunderous machine with dust and debris flying in every direction, was the last thing B'Elanna wanted to do this early in the morning, and the closer they got to Solek's ship, the more dread filled her heart. Whatever news he had for them, she knew it couldn't be good.

B'Elanna was glad no one else had been out to witness his landing. She couldn't imagine how she would have explained all of this to Chakotay, or how Tom would have.

They pulled up next to the craft and Solek was already climbing out of the raised hatch on the other side. He wore a sand colored cloak, and underneath were the tattered clothes of a typical dilithium laborer. The Vulcan—_Romulan_—whatever the hell he wanted to call himself these days really _had_ gone all the way to Remus and apparently hadn't been caught, _yet._

He would eventually get caught though. One day he would slip up and he would get caught. She hoped that her husband would have enough sense before that time came to rein in his first officer's wildcard activities.

_Yeah, that's right, B'Elanna,_ she thought. _Just like you've been able to rein Tom's in._

By the time the sand and dust settled down, Tom was out of the hovercraft. His injured arm momentarily forgotten, he tore off the goggles and threw his legs over the side hopping down into the loose sand below. He paused for only a second, gripping his shoulder, but then he let it go and stepped as quickly as he could through the soft sand around the front of the craft to where Solek now stood.

B'Elanna had worked closely with Solek for months on Onari and it still surprised her that she hadn't in all that time guessed at his origins or understood his deep devotion to his former captain. She could see it now in the way he greeted him. He was as composed as usual, but behind Solek's stoic manner and his practiced austere gaze there was a light of fierce loyalty in his eyes that he could not extinguish and that she would from now on always recognize.

This was one man who would never turn his back on them, regardless of the risks, and with everything crumbling around them, he was doing his best to protect them—just as he had protected her in the banquet hall on Onari.

By the time B'Elanna climbed out of the hovercraft, she discovered that someone had come with Solek on this trip. The woman climbed out of the cockpit and lowered her hood. The first thing B'Elanna noticed as the young woman lifted her gaze to her was her pointed ears and slanted brow.

B'Elanna couldn't believe her eyes. "Verdi?" she asked.

Verdi smiled beautifully, flashing a row of perfectly straight teeth. "Dr. Torres."

"I don't believe it. What are you doing here? I expect this sort of thing from him," B'Elanna said jerking a thumb at Solek. "But you?"

"Called to duty Ma'am. I could not refuse."

"Sir," Solek said to Tom, apparently anxious to get to business. "I have information on Crevlin's location. He is not in Romulan territory, as Starfleet is so wont to insist, but he is instead situated within a few hours' range of this planet. It appears that Aristarchus is indeed his next objective."

"That's not what I wanted to hear, Solek," Tom remarked.

"I know, sir."

"I'd like to see this information for myself."

"I'll show you, Commodore," Verdi offered. She slipped back into the vehicle and inserted a data disk into the console. A screen lit up beside her and she pulled it out on a short track and tilted it to face them. Soon it presented a map of a star field.

"Here's Aristarchus," she said pointing to a small white blip down in the lower left corner. "Crevlin was believed to be in this area," she circled a dim smudge on the screen three centimeters over, "only two days ago."

Tom crouched down beside her and peered intently at the screen. B'Elanna came up behind him to see. The smudge looked like a thumbprint, but cloaked ships would appear this way on some sensors.

"How many ships does he have?" Tom asked.

"Three," Solek said. "We know he has a Constellation sized ship, the one whose warp trail we followed when he escaped Onari. It alone has the capability to wipe out these facilities with only one or two well-aimed torpedo blasts. The other ships are smaller, capable of carrying supplies or men to and from the surface of Aristarchus if they so desired."

"How do you know this is true, Solek?" B'Elanna asked. "Can you trust this information?" It all seemed too surreal to believe. How could Starfleet be so blind to their enemies' movements?

"I went through great lengths to retrieve this information. I believe it to be highly accurate."

"You went to _Remus_, Solek for godssake! Who in hell would ever trust a Reman to give them accurate information—I mean, besides _you_?"

"B'Elanna," Tom interjected. "Don't start."

"If I may, sir," Solek said. "I would like to clarify."

Tom waved a hand. "Go ahead." Better sometimes to appease his wife than to try to stop her.

"His name is K'Vak-Telmor."

"Never heard of him," B'Elanna retorted.

"He is a relatively new Proconsul with high political aspirations. He may have set his sights on one day becoming Praetor. I believe he will be the adversary to watch in years to come."

"It never ends." B'Elanna said. "As soon as you rid the universe of one tyrant another takes his place."

"That would be the way of things," Solek responded. "There is one fact that bears mentioning. He is the one who provided this ship and the supplies therein. He has somehow come to believe that I am on my way to destroy Crevlin's force. That is the purpose for which he gave me all of this-"

"Solek," Tom suddenly interrupted. "You're not going to do that."

"No sir! Not without your authorization."

Tom was standing now, and despite the sunburn, his face had lost all color. He swiped a hand through his hair and muttered something under his breath before he spoke. "You're going back to Venture," he said, "If Crevlin attacks this facility, I'm going to need you in command. There's a possibility you'll be called into action."

"Aye, Sir."

"We're going to use this information to convince Starfleet that they've lost control of the negotiations. It's going to be difficult, especially with Commodore Preston in command of the ships in this sector, so be patient."

"Aye, sir," Solek replied. "Preston has never been known to change his mind once it is made. He believes Crevlin remains in Romulan territory and has sent several Constellation and Miranda class starships to the Onari conflict. To expect him to pull out now would prove to be a difficult task indeed."

"Still, we can't keep this knowledge to ourselves," Tom said. "We'll have to get it out in the open-leak this information to a reliable source within Starfleet."

"Admiral Janeway," B'Elanna suggested. "She's not deeply involved in this conflict yet. She's probably the only Admiral in Starfleet who still has an objective opinion."

"She's the one," Tom agreed. "But Solek, you'll have to get this information to her without blowing your cover. No one can find out about your excursion to Remus, or there'll be hell to pay."

"Discretion is my specialty, sir. I know what to do."

That seemed to satisfy Tom, but even though B'Elanna had seen Solek pull off some minor miracles on Onari, this plan would need divine intervention, and she wasn't completely convinced he had those kinds of connections. In her opinion, Solek had been taking too many risks. It was time to call him on it.

"Solek, I have one question for you and I would like you to answer it honestly," she said.

"I have always been honest with you, Dr. Torres."

"How in hell did you and Lt. Verdi leave Venture at a time like this without someone getting suspicious?" she demanded. It was a blunt question and she expected Tom to interfere, but he only watched with a faint look of amusement on his face.

Solek raised a brow; his imitation of a Vulcan's stoic character was still as irritatingly perfect as ever. "I simply informed Starfleet that a Vulcan summit on the Onari crisis was taking place, and that I must attend. It was factual information. I did briefly attend. And as these kinds of affairs are restricted only to those of Vulcan descent, no one questioned."

"And what about Lt. Verdi? How—"

"B'Elanna," Tom interrupted. "We have to get this cargo unloaded. Solek needs to get back to Venture as soon as possible. The questions will have to wait."

"Yes, the summit is coming to a conclusion as we speak," Solek replied. "The crew will be expecting me."

B'Elanna fumed for a moment, but she nodded. She couldn't hold Solek up, but she had Tom, and he would supply the answers or he was right, there would be hell to pay.

Tom started to walk toward the cargo area. "Let's take a look at those supplies."

"Lieutenant, release the hatch," Solek said as he turned, and Verdi complied. The hatch popped open.

B'Elanna peered inside. Most of the crates that were crammed into the dark cargo hold sported military insignia—Romulan military insignia. She groaned.

"As you can see, sir by the small size of this craft, we were limited in what we could bring to you," Solek explained. Then he allowed himself to smile. "But I believe I have chosen wisely."


	38. Stratagem

**S**olek did not stay long. Though he would have remained on Aristarchus to help in any way possible, his mission there was over. His next task was to make sure that Janeway got the message about Crevlin's movements, and he had to get back to Venture in order to do that. So after his farewells and several promises to return as soon as he possibly could, he and Verde reluctantly departed.

To avoid the localized sandstorm the ship's departure would create; Tom and B'Elanna climbed into the hovercraft and sped away from the site. At a distance, they watched the craft ascend into the sky until it was no more than a bright pinpoint of reflective light in a field of clear blue.

B'Elanna glanced at her husband. He was still looking skyward. What was going through his mind, she didn't know. Their only lifeline had just left them, gone back to the relative safety of the stars, and the two of them were left alone to protect this island planet until someone in Starfleet other than Solek, stepped up to defend their cause.

A part of her hoped they would not have to use the supplies packed in crates that Solek risked his life to bring them, that maybe Tom was wrong about Crevlin's threat. But she needed her husband to be right about all of it. They already had enough explaining to do with Starfleet, even if Crevlin blew Aristarchus to atoms, there would still be an inquiry. If Crevlin didn't attack, Starfleet would have no other choice than to throw Tom in prison, probably for life.

Even with all of this that lay ahead of them, there was still a more immediate concern. The people back at the geological compound were unaware of this morning's events, and it was going to be no easy task to tell them about Solek's visit, and its implications.

"How do you think the colonist's are going to take it?" she asked.

"They're probably going to hate me," he replied, still watching the sky, though the Romulan ship was by now only a memory. "They won't like what I have to say, and what I'll ask them to do."

"Of course they won't." She gave a wry laugh. "I don't like it either, but there's no way around it. Chakotay will help us. The people will listen to him."

Tom looked at her. "Yeah, but I have to convince Chakotay first."

"Well, no one said this was going to be easy," she said, giving him a peck on the cheek to lighten the mood. "We can do it together, Flyboy."

* * *

B'Elanna had held her breath when Tom told Chakotay and Annika about Solek. Sharing this secret with them raised the stakes for both Tom and Solek, but Chakotay had to know everything. He had surprised them both by remaining calm, as if he heard this kind of news every day, but he was obstinate and Tom had his work cut out for him.

Chakotay sat beside Annika on a small couch back in their living quarters and watched Tom pace.

"I don't know what else I can say to convince you," Tom said, he was so worked up that he refused the seat Annika offered him. "You're the one person in this entire colony who should understand what happens when well armed enemy ships attack a defenseless world. The _Cardassians_, Chakotay- "

"Back then, the threat was clear," Chakotay said. "We saw the enemy. This time…so far we have no solid proof. Even if we had hard data-even if we saw them coming—" Chakotay stopped and shook his head. "This compound has sheltered us for years. You'll have a tough time convincing the colonists to pick up and move to the caverns. As far as they're concerned, life has gotten better for them here. The outworlders have left and we've been living in relative peace. We have shields. They've protected us from countless sandstorms—"

"A sandstorm is nothing!" Tom interjected. "They have a battle ship that could obliterate this entire complex in one blast of their torpedoes. I'm right about this. They will come, and we have only one day-maybe two-to prepare ourselves."

"All I know is your first officer got some vague sensor data from a disgruntled Romulan. Why should we trust it? Why didn't Solek stay here and back you up on this?"

"I thought you knew me well enough, Chakotay," Tom replied trying to keep the edge out of his voice. "I thought you wouldn't need his word when you have mine."

"And mine," B'Elanna inserted. "We showed you the data; you've seen it for yourselves."

"We've seen it," Chakotay replied. "But even you don't know its source. Your argument lacks credibility."

"Think about your people here," Tom said. "What will you tell them when those warships arrive? That you knew they were coming and chose to do nothing about it?"

"You've been very secretive, Tom. That's what people will think, and they won't trust you. No matter what I believe or how long we've known each other, the fact is, you've kept vital information from us. I should have been informed about Solek's landing here. I wouldn't care if you were the damned Fleet Admiral, you should have told me."

"I'm telling you now, and Solek's career and possibly his life are on the line because of it. I don't take this lightly. What I had to do, I had to do, and I'm sorry that I had to keep things from you. But the fact remains, this colony is in danger and you have to make a decision. Either trust me—trust B'Elanna—and convince the colonists to leave or wait it out here and find out first hand how well these facilities hold up under a barrage of photon blasts." Tom went to the door, and B'Elanna followed. "You and Annika talk it over. Let us know what you decide."

* * *

After Tom and B'Elanna left, Annika put a hand on Chakotay's knee and looked over at him. "I believe him," she said. "I have not known Tom Paris to be irrational…impetuous maybe, but never irrational. He would not come to us on a half baked whim."

"I believe him too."

"Then why are you denying him your aid?"

"He's our friend," Chakotay said. "The colonists don't know Tom like we do. They're sympathetic to him because of what he's been through, but that sympathy could turn into resentment if he doesn't handle this right. I thought I'd give him some incentive to build a better argument. Now he's gone off and he's thinking up a new strategy. One that might help us to convince the colonists to listen."

"You have chosen a unique and surprising approach," Annika said. "Don't let him wait too long."


	39. A True Test

**T**here was more trouble now in this little community on Aristarchus, and things promised to get worse. When Uncle Chakotay called a meeting to inform the colonists of Solek's visit and what that visit meant to the people here. Many of the colonists reacted with suspicion and resentment. Dad wasn't the most popular resident right now. Some of the men actually accused him of causing the danger. They said that by coming here, he had drawn the enemy's sites down on Aristarchus.

Throughout the meeting, Miral had stood behind her father eyeing the colonists with her fists clenched. If their angry words turned to violence, she would jump to his defense and they would find out just how formidable even a quarter Klingon could be.

But to Miral's mild disappointment, it didn't come to that. Dad held his ground and with Uncle Chakotay backing him up, he was able to convince the colonists that leaving the facilities for the safety of the caverns was their only viable choice.

Still, Miral wanted to throw some things—break some things—like the necks of the more vocal dissenters. The danger was coming, and the threat from Crevlin was real, she believed Dad completely, but it was hard being in the minority. It was especially hard to see her loving father so detested.

She was still thinking on this later as she and Cairo worked together to empty a supply shed. Cairo was giving her the cold shoulder, which didn't bother Miral in the slightest, but Miral already sensed that the heated mood between them was increasing along with the desert temperatures.

The shed was nearly empty with a few remaining boxes left to be hauled out. Miral would be glad when this work was done. The heat was becoming unbearable and compounded with the burden of lugging the crates out to the collection area. Just a couple more trips and she could take a much deserved water break.

When she bent down to pick up another crate, Cairo who had been behind her, pushed by, ramming Miral's shoulder with the sharp corner of a box, sending a jolt of pain through her shoulder blade.

"Ow!" Miral exclaimed. "Watch where you're going!" She rubbed gingerly at the welt that rose up.

"Excuse me," Cairo said. She gazed at Miral with unsympathetic eyes. "I didn't see you." She flashed a satisfied smile and stepped out of the shed.

That bitch! She did it on purpose! Miral bent down again and jerked up the next box.

When she stepped outside, she caught up to Cairo. "Do you have a problem?"

"Why, no," Cairo replied. "What makes you think that?" The innocent look on her face caused a low burn to grow in the pit of Miral's stomach.

Cairo set the box down beside the others crates in the collection area where Martin and Joaquin were working. She flashed a pleasant smile at Joaquin, who was rummaging through the supplies and picking out the essentials.

"We're almost done!" she said in an all-too-cheerful voice.

"Good, this is going a lot faster than I thought," Joaquin replied. He lifted the box and stacked it on top of another.

Miral came up beside him and dropped her box with a thud at his feet.

"Is everything alright?" he asked. "Do you need to take a break?"

When she looked up at him, and saw the gentleness in his eyes, her anger subsided—a little. "I'm okay," she huffed. "I just bumped into the door jamb." She turned to show him the injury, tilting her head to the side just a little when she saw Cairo returning with another box.

"Wow," Joaquin said, admiring the injury. "That's some scrape." He smoothed his hand gently over it.

"It's nothing really," she said, glaring at Cairo. "I can handle a _little_ problem."

Cairo went back to the shed. Miral followed.

"You know, I think this move is bullshit if you want to know the truth," Cairo said to her when she entered the shed, "but who am I, a lowly geologist to second guess a Starfleet commodore?" She lifted a box, and then put it back down as if she had just thought of something important to say. "I can't believe we're leaving the safety of the facilities for a dank and moldy cavern. If you ask me, and I don't think you will, I think your daddy's wrong. We're not in any danger here."

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Miral snapped. "You must be blind, or a complete idiot! You've seen what those people did to my father! What makes you think you're safe?"

"We are safe! Those outworlders are long gone! Nobody's going to attack this little outpost. Maybe that injury went to his head, huh?" Cairo suggested. "Maybe your daddy should see a psychiatrist, and leave us the hell alone!"

"I've heard enough from you." Miral warned. Her hands were still at her sides but they had curled into fists, anxious to put this girl's lights out. "You'd better leave right now," she growled. "Or I can't guarantee that you won't be hurt."

Cairo's hands were on her hips. "I don't think so little girl. You're going to be the one who's leaving," she said and she stepped closer towering a full decimeter over Miral. "And here's another thing I want you to think about. When all this blows over and you're long gone to that little academy of yours, Joaquin will still be here, and so…will…I."

Cairo smiled wickedly, punctuating each of those last…three…words with a jab of her index finger into Miral's shoulder.

Miral glared up at her; a smile curved her lips. The words came from low in her throat, like the growl of a vicious animal. "You shouldn't have touched me."

Cairo's eyes went wide.

* * *

"That's about it," Joaquin said as he opened the last crate. "We just have this one to go through."

"I'll check with Chakotay and see what he wants us to do next." Martin said.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Joaquin agreed. "But are the girls finished yet?"

Martin shrugged. "I think so."

They both looked toward the shed.

"Awful quiet in there," Martin said.

"Yeah, it's almost too quiet. I wonder why the door's closed?"

Suddenly it burst open and the two girls fell out into the dusty path, Miral and Cairo rolled in a tangled mess of fists and fury.

"Oh shit!" Joaquin exclaimed. And he and Martin both ran to the two combatants.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa girls!" Martin shouted, but he didn't make a move to stop them.

"Break it up! Come on!" Joaquin said as he grabbed Miral around the waist to pull her off Cairo, but she still had Cairo in a neck hold. "Martin, help me for godsake! Don't be a moron!"

"Right!" Martin pried Miral's arm away and pulled Cairo free.

"Mar-tin," said Cairo breathlessly. Her hair fell in a matte over her face, and she clutched at Martin's shirt. "She's…she's crazy! A lunatic…just like her father!"

Miral broke from Joaquin's grasp and lunged at Cairo again.

Cairo let out an ear-piercing scream.

* * *

B'Elanna's heart leapt to her throat when she heard that scream, and she rushed to see who had been hurt.

"What in hell is going on?" she bellowed when she came upon the scene. Her eyes lit upon the two struggling fighters. Her daughter! "Get up!" she ordered. "Both of you!"

Miral immediately backed off leaving Cairo sputtering in the sand.

"We have a lot of work to do! This behavior is inexcusable! Miral—" she began, having a good mind to berate her daughter for this foolishness, but she stopped and took in a pitiable image. Sand covered Miral's sweat-soaked skin, her hair was in knots, and she was fighting back bitter tears. B'Elanna would have to use a different tactic to straighten this out.

"Are you hurt?" she asked mechanically.

"No," Miral said. She ran a hand through her tangled hair in a vain attempt to straighten it.

She was hurt though. There was some blood on her cheek and on her neck and arms. It was hard to judge how serious the injuries were through the caked on sand, but B'Elanna suspected that her daughter was hurting more on the inside than out.

B'Elanna took a deep breath. "Go calm yourself then," she said. "Get a drink of water, get cleaned up, and when you feel as if you can work without incident and be a help to this effort, come see me."

Miral stepped around Cairo who still sat on the ground, and the girls eyed each other with palpable hatred.

This group will need at least one person trained in diplomacy if they were to get to the caverns on time and in one piece. Like it or not B'Elanna was it.

If Kahless was testing her, it was quite a test, and it was only just beginning.


	40. By Nightfall

**B**y nightfall, most of the equipment and supplies had finally been moved to the caverns. The project had taken all day. There were only two slow driving hovcarts to transport the goods from the facilities over the several miles of wasteland to the caverns. The move had been a precarious one, especially when it came to the strained relationship between the Paris's and the rest of the colony.

Dad's confidence in the mission and Uncle Chakotay's leadership held the colonist's together in a very fragile bond. Mom had counseled Miral in so many words that one more incident could undo everything they worked for. Miral had to restrain herself and keep a close check on her emotions, paying particular attention to the way she responded to adversity.

That was just the way Mom spoke these days, in her diplomatic mode, but Mom was still Mom and a Klingon couldn't change her ridges.

In other words, one more slipup and Miral was toast.

Miral had heard the lecture before and hoped it would sink in this time, which shouldn't be too hard.

Things had settled down somewhat since the fight. Cairo had not so much as looked at Miral, but Miral had noticed how Cairo had cozied up to Martin in the aftermath, which he didn't seem to mind. Maybe the incident did them a favor in a strange way. Their relationship seemed to be growing.

It was one oddly positive result of Miral's hotheadedness and she couldn't take the credit.

So she threw herself into her job for the evening, which was to move the less urgent supplies to a small room off the main where everyone was setting up camp. She was alone in this task and was thankful for the time by herself. If she was alone, she couldn't get into trouble, and maybe that was the idea.

As she moved the supplies she was able to take in the beauty of their new lodgings. Coming from the nearly lifeless desert outside, one would never guess at the beauty beneath the surface. Softly glowing colors emanated from the sparkling crystals embedded in the walls, strewn about the floor and from beneath the clear running water. The crystals were everywhere and they lit up this place. She remembered how Joaquin had talked about it back on Earth and how he seemed to carry a bit of this light in his own eyes when he spoke of Aristarchus.

Miral set the last box down on the moist, pebbly floor of the cavern and suddenly realized how cold she had become. A sheen of sweat glazed her skin from all those hours of working so hard in the outside heat was now cooling her down too much. She pulled on her jacket and hugged herself into it.

Still exhausted and sore from her fight with Cairo, she let out a deep sigh and slumped down onto a crate rubbing at the ache in her shoulder. Miral didn't want to admit it, but Cairo had proven to be stronger than she had anticipated, and she had nearly yanked Miral's arm out of the socket.

Humiliation burrowed a little deeper into her heart making itself quite comfortable there. She wondered if she were capable of doing anything to make her parents proud of her. Trouble seemed to seek her out these days. It just wasn't fair.

She pushed her feet through the pebbles on the floor. They were curious-looking stones. The way they twinkled gave her the impression that she was resting her feet on a bed of stars.

She sighed again and closed her eyes.

A hand settled onto her shoulder, and Miral started.

"Just me," Joaquin said. He had just gotten back from the last trip to the facilities and he looked tired too. He sat down beside her. "Feeling okay?"

"No, but I'll get over it."

"That's my girl."

"Joaquin, why do you keep coming back to me after all the stupid, irresponsible things I do? I'll just get you into trouble. I was sort of born for it."

He chuckled.

"I'm serious," she insisted, but something in his smile made her imagine he still had some naive belief in her that she felt compelled to excise from him permanently. "Joaquin," she said, straightening and looking him in the eyes—and they were beautiful eyes—a lump formed in her throat. "Joaquin…"

Words failed her, and she threw her arms around him. So much for pushing him away.

"Oh, Miral," he said softly as he hugged her to him. "I've known you nearly all your life. Sometimes I think I understand you more than you understand yourself."

She pulled away and narrowed her eyes. "You do?"

"Yes, I do," he said. "Don't look so surprised."

He draped his arm around her and they sat in silence for a moment, and Miral took heart. No matter where they were, he was always a reassuring presence. She laid her head on his shoulder.

Now was good. This moment in his arms made up for all the bad that had happened before, but what about the future? In the best of all outcomes, she could still lose him. She would be going back to the academy, and she didn't know of any love affair that could survive such a great distance. If the worst happened, if the caverns were attacked, they could die here…or worse she might survive him.

She shivered then, and as if reading her thoughts, he gently lifted her chin with his knuckle and pressed his warm lips to hers. She closed her eyes and let his kiss carry her away to a safer place.

"Don't be afraid," he murmured.


End file.
